


Ashen

by Ludii



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Morality, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forced Marriage, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Really sloooow burn, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludii/pseuds/Ludii
Summary: Malfoy was curious. Curiousandangry.  “So, what do you want from me, Weasley?”It was the admission of his defeat. Ginny felt the taste of victory - and it wasbitter.“I want influence. I want protection. I want safety.” She stopped, giving him time to assimilate her words, before she played her final card. "I want your name." When saying the last sentence, however, she could not help the blush that spread across her face.Malfoy's countenance changed several times in a very short time. Annoyance turned into wariness, then into confusion, and finally, when he really understood what Ginny had implied, his face showed only a profound horror.I want your name.I want a marriage.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 76
Kudos: 95





	1. Life Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's fair to start saying that this will be a long story. There is a real possibility of many chapters ahead as I tend to write a lot. (sorry) Regarding the chronology: the first chapters faithfully follow the book Deathly Hallows until the end of the Battle of Hogwarts,so if you haven't read the book it will be very difficult to understand anything.
> 
> About Draco and Ginny: I don't like stories where these two adorable dorks fall in love in one chapter. To tell you the truth, in this story Draco appears less than I would like until chapter six, give or take it. I needed to develop the whole context before the forced approach of them and tried to keep the whole thing as canon as possible. The result of this was a much bigger story than I expected at the beginning and a DG interaction that comes only after I have developed some points that I considered important.
> 
> The opening two chapters of this story are already on this site, under the profile of someone else. I'll repeat them here, with some minor adjustments.  
> I had allowed this author to post what I had written, but she didn't follow through. In order not to disturb her (life happens to us all) I decided to post what I'd written, under my own username.

_March, 1998_

_Rain is something funny_. She knew it was an awkward thought to have considering the moment. However, it was exactly what she was thinking over those last few moments, nesting and embracing her own knees on a window sill while observing those heavy raindrops punishing the glass. Rain had a bunch of facets that could make you feel truly alive — when little raindrops fall on your face and you smile with the sensation of being against them, for instance — or could ruin all your hopes, draining through you as the water that drenches your clothes… and leave you empty.

It’s grey; might be good, might be bad, it all depends on the angle of the viewer, on the moment.

She used to enjoy observing it because the rain didn’t mirror the current Manichean reality — it worked almost as a pressure valve that didn’t involve butterbeer or some sort of illicit activity.

This introspective girl in particular was called Ginevra Molly Weasley, sixteen years old, living in a world trying to balance itself on a tightrope before a breathless audience. No one could say for sure to which side the world would swing.

Her life had a white side, joyous. A side capable of waking her up early in the morning and shout to the world once this “crisis” was over, she would be Harry Potter’s wife, the Boy-That-Kept-Surviving. It just didn’t cross her mind that, after so long and after so many fights, things could end badly. It was a matter of destiny, of _justice_. The white side of her life also covered her family, the ones that encompassed her with love as a cocoon encompasses a butterfly about to transform — even if the comparison wasn’t _that good_ , since growing up with six elder siblings gave her the grace of a hippopotamus rather than a butterfly. But she couldn’t care less as long as they were by her side… as long as Harry was by her side.

And then there was the dark side of her life, somehow always lurking, always waiting for the slightest blunder. A black side that almost killed her during her first year in Hogwarts due to a bloody enchanted diary, which by the way, put the entire school in danger. The dark side that got her literally running for her life at the Ministry of Magic in her fourth year and the responsible for the tense atmosphere that caused the air to be nearly unbreathable. The black side that took Mad-Eye Moody in June, Dumbledore a year before, disfigured Bill. The dark side that kept pushing her away from _him_. She missed Harry so much that sometimes she thought she would suffocate, as much as for his absence as for the fact he was off somewhere with Ron and Hermione while she was condemned to stay in Hogwarts… and the sorrow rooted in her chest was there because she was certain of giving all the possible proofs of her capacity and devoutness, and yet, at the end, she would never be anything but the youngest sister, a fragile girl who needs protection, and she loathed that.

They have never treated Hermione that way, and “they” she defined as half of the wizarding world.

Nevertheless, she kept validating her point, doing her bit. At least it was what she has been trying to do in Hogwarts since she left The Burrow at the beginning of September. Alongside Dumbledore’s Army (or the remains of it), she established the Resistance’s cell opposing You-Know-Who’s influence at the school, and only Merlin knew at what cost: if previously detentions could be summed up in boredom and never ending tedious activities, such as dealing with dusty books and vicious animals, now the setting was definitely different. It wasn’t sporadic that a student coming back from those torture sessions disguised as detentions was incapable of walking by themselves, and that was specifically true for Neville; contrary to all Universe prognoses, he had been showing himself a valorous leader, filling her heart with tenderness whenever she thought of him.

It all began when she, Neville and Luna tried to steal Godric Gryffindor’s sword from the Headmaster’s Office, then Severus Snape’s. They had been sent to the Forbidden Forest and their visits to Hogsmeade were banished; Ginny assumed that would be the sum of detention terms they receive, but thereupon, the school’s disciplinary sector was under Alecto and Amycus Carrow’s charge, who took the teaching posts of “Muggles Studies” and the newly devised “Dark Arts”. Ginny felt shivers down her spine at the memory: now students were obliged to practice Unforgivable Curses on those in detention, and Ginny was gutted at the fact.

The worst part, besides not having any news from the outside world, was enduring the Carrow siblings’ _oddities_. Hogwarts became similar to a cemetery full of lost souls wandering the halls. Obviously, genuine lost souls were wandering there, although the context was quite unrelated.

Their last brilliant idea was promoting some kind of fraternization, aiming to demonstrate the wizarding world was now united under one flag. _The four big houses of Hogwarts must be united_ , a crystal clear statement meaning there was no room for disparity and plurality; this “fraternization” would be the first step towards homogeneity. Of course, the gentle touch of masochism had been left in the Carrow siblings’ careful hands: they found very interesting (not to say hilarious) to determine the couples for the occasion, creating potential punitive and embarrassing situations for those involved. It seemed unnecessary to underline that to refuse to attend “could” bring more trouble than benefits. Furthermore…

“Hey, Redhead.”

She was abruptly pulled away from her thoughts.

In those particular moments, the entire elder siblings’ forbidden vocabulary and the need of having a Quidditch wooden bat at hand would pop up on her mind. Blaise Zabini appeared from a shadowy corner on the hall, seemingly ready for the forthcoming session of torture disguised as a Ball. It was still ghastly to uphold any sort of civilised dialogue with him, but… his presence was way more comforting than a Carrow's.

“Hello to you too, Zabini. Good to know it’s common to stalk defenceless girls through the halls among those who received a pure-blood _marvellous education_ ,” she emphasized.

“First of all, you’re also a pure-blood, in spite of everything. Secondly, if you are a defenceless girl, I’m sure You-Know-Who fancies nasal congestion charms.” He said with his typical steady voice. “I’ve already witnessed one or two consequences of your jinxes to verify for myself how defenceless you can be.”

She bit her lower lip to avoid an unwanted smile. If someone had told her a few months ago she would have something near to a friendship with Blaise Zabini, she would have given this someone a lift directly to St. Mungus. Even though he was more restrained than his Slytherin comrades, Blaise had never hid his scorn for muggle-borns, although the fact he demonstrated disdain for every single person, regardless of their origin, weighed in his favour. The truth was Blaise Zabini was a relief, showing up with his natural acid retorts, cynicism and his constant behaviour. Ginny, not for the first time, pondered that was exactly what was missing on her life latterly: _Constancy_.

She was far from deeming Blaise Zabini the new paladin in the fight against the Dark Lord, able to forge a scar on his forehead and defeat Death Eaters. Perhaps what attracted her about his presence was precisely that — she was so familiar with a “good versus evil” world that finding someone who didn’t swing to either side made her curiosity level rise. Therefore, since the detention in which she was compelled to stay under his supervision for four hours (which supposedly should have included some moderate types of torture), their acquaintanceship had evolved a lot. He was quite pleasant to chat with, as long as him being an egocentric bastard was ignored.

In essence, Blaise was the embodiment of selfishness, purely. He was not loyal to any ideology, to any cause. He didn’t appreciate fundamentalism of any kind, and neither would he stick his neck out for someone. He wanted (and he would, she had the feeling) to be on the winning side. Well, at least he was fun and he could make her forget for brief seconds about the utter tosh that was living during a war — and when in war, one thing Ginny has learnt, you can’t choose your allies; you simply accept those who are given to you.

She jumped from the window sill, stretched out in one of her usual feline movements, and began to walk.

“It isn’t proper to wisecrack in the hallways nowadays, Blaise,” she sighed, still avoiding a smile. She didn’t reckon it was right to smile while Harry and Ron were starving and freezing, or while Dumbledore’s Army was being hunted.

“As much as it isn’t proper to wear a brown dress when you’ve got this flaming hair. You have the appearance of a rust spot.” He wrinkled his aristocratic nose at her. “But this is how life is, my dear Gryffindor. Good taste is just like money. Some have lots and others have _so_ little…” He smiled with a bit of malice.

She compared her coy brown dress, adorned with golden lace on the sleeves and hem, to his posh tailor-made suit; it was of a dark-blue that matched his chocolate, comely skin. For a short period of time, she felt as if wearing a dress tailor-made to her grandmother. But it was a very short period of time. It wasn’t proper to get attached to futilities.

The relevant fact was: she didn’t care about Blaise’s retorts any more, mainly the ones about her financial condition, because those had a tendency to be followed by some comment even more poisonous concerning someone else, regardless of their origin, financial condition or status. For example, the comments he always made about Pansy Parkinson and her low intelligence quotient.

Ginny saw the chance and she grabbed it.

“Then I’m very glad you’ve got a date with lots of money but no good taste,” she said, half serious, half smiling. “I bet you’ll have an unforgettable night with Parkinson.”

She sensed he got uncomfortable. “ _Touché_. It doesn’t amuse me to scavenge through other’s people garbage,” he said with a touch of wounded pride and an absolutely malicious tone. “Even if I’m strongly guessing Malfoy won’t care much about what I do or not with Parkinson, since he’ll have the pleasure of far more interesting company.”

Ginny blushed right away — with anger. It was hard enough to deal with the obligation of attending the Ball, but having Draco Malfoy as her date was the equivalent of being cursed. Since the end of the last year, his image only brought knots to her stomach. _Dumbledore…_ his fault. _Bill..._ his fault. Grief in Hogwarts… everything was his and that bloody Vanishing Cabinet's fault.

After the couples’ announcement, her mood was pretty bad for an entire week. She has finally attested the veracity of “Nothing is bad enough to the point it cannot get worse”.

Anyways, it seemed the Malfoy influence inside the Death Eaters' circle was outworn. There was no doubt she was being punished through the selection; the acquaintanceship with Zabini may have caused the impression of a slight inclination to the Dark Side, but this impression was a very microscopic once it was considered that her family were still blood-traitors and, to top it all, she had been Harry Potter’s girlfriend.

On the other hand, the punishment to Malfoy could only mean one thing: his family was in trouble with You-Know-Who. After what happened at the Ministry of Magic and the Astronomy Tower, something went, without question, very wrong for them. Probably it was the failure of Draco's attempt to kill Professor Dumbledore, in spite of him being responsible for all the chaos caused in Hogwarts that night… Anyhow, Ginny could only speculate.

“Oh, yes, his date is a very distinctive person. It’s a shame that he thinks she’s worth less than a toothless grindylow,” she said absently.

Blaise laughed. He didn’t laugh often and Ginny thought his smile made his countenance a lot blander. “So I presume his distinctive date worries about what he thinks of her?”

Her stomach tossed and turned thanks to the nausea provoked by Zabini’s joke. She couldn’t dismiss from her mind the problems Malfoy had created last year, the injuries Bill had suffered, and how Harry broke up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral.

“Easier for me to worry about Snape’s thoughts on my dress,” she said, more grudgingly than expected. The one sin of Blaise Zabini was the fact that he was an egocentric bastard. Meanwhile, he didn’t deserve a double shot of Weasley temperament.

“Hum, I somewhat doubt his taste can be trusted. However, you can ask him for some hair washing advice… Or not.” He had returned to his introspective self and Ginny was surprised, not for the first time, by how egocentric Blaise really was.

Raising the hem to an acceptable height which would allow her to walk a little faster, Ginny hastened her steps towards the Great Hall, designated to host the “fraternization”. Draco Malfoy hadn't bothered contacting her, and neither had she. As the vast majority of couples was arranged to dissatisfy those involved, the mutterings spread through the hallways suggested the best to do was to meet at the Great Hall’s doors, then perform a bit to the Carrow siblings, make a just-sucked-sour-lemon face and get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

Walking the hallways, with a quiet Zabini on her heels, Ginny kept focusing on the end of the evening. She was walking faster and faster as if to anticipate the desired end, with her shoes echoing against the castle’s solid rock walls. Blaise was walking with much more elegance and flippancy, not even putting effort in following her. When both turned a hallway that provided access to a few rooms, they saw two silhouettes dragging a third, which looked more unconscious than awake. In a certain way, Zabini’s presence gave her the courage to get close. Ginny held her breath at the scene.

Neville was laid between two big lads, staggering to his feet. A cut was bleeding on his right eye while the left one was so swollen it could be considered nothing but a simple line inserted on a purple sea of protuberances, also known as the right side of his face. He seemed to be wearing a gala suit, but it was so damaged Ginny wouldn’t be surprised if Neville told her he was just hit by the Hogwarts Express. After drinking five bottles of fire whiskey.

“In the name of Merlin, Neville! What happened to you?!” She gasped, getting closer.

The troglodytes who carried him (who Ginny recognized as Vincent Crabbe and David Urquhart) tried to block her way, but the imposing figure of Blaise Zabini right behind her as a statue somehow intimidated further reactions on the part of the "guards”.

“Oh, hey there Gin!” he said with difficulty. “It’s nothing major, trust me. All I did was convey my thoughts to the Carrows about this Ball. I guess they didn’t appreciate my insight.” He finished the sentence with a mixture of coughing and laughter, which made his body swing inertly between the troglodytes.

Ginny stared at her dress, at herself, ready for a Ball, and felt like the worst and most deplorable person ever, agreeing to such whimsicalities coming from lunatics. She had the urge to rip off her dress, wield her wand and scream to the world she would fight, as her siblings, as Neville.

Neville, already being dragged again to wherever it was his destination, noticed her reaction and as much as his condition allowed he tried to say gently: “Relax, Gin. Each one of us has our own way of fighting. It doesn’t mean not fighting at all.” He ceased with a wink, but its effect was neutralized due to the state of his eye. Afterward, Crabbe dealt a violent kick to Neville’s right leg, and he immediately fell to the ground like a huge sack of oat. The Slytherin laughed as he would on those rare occasions when someone told him a joke he understood. Ginny tried to react but the hand groping for her wand wasn’t as fast as Zabini’s hand holding hers.

His stone cold look was saying “don’t do anything you might regret later”. Ginny disentangled her hand from his sharply and dashed towards the opposite direction, leaving the message “don’t you dare follow me” hovering in the air. Blaise was terrific when dealing with unsaid words. She would find a way to get to Neville after that stupid Ball was over.

Ginny tightened her eyes trying to avoid the tears, remembering her first ball at Hogwarts, when Neville invited her, and it strangely seemed to have happened ages ago. She missed that age. She missed her room with those _Weird Sisters_ posters plastered on the walls. She missed her mother washing the dishes with just a wave of her wand in a dance so familiar to her. She missed Luna, who has been kidnapped from the Hogwarts Express by Death Eaters at Christmas. She missed Hermione, she missed the twins and she missed Harry. Merlin, she missed Harry so much. She missed everything she had lost since Dumbledore’s funeral.

She shook her head, nurturing Neville’s idea. Yes, she would fight. But one battle at a time. At the moment, she needed to survive the evening, which probably would result in memories she would gladly dump right after into a Pensieve.

Ginny slowed her steps, taking a breath, and tried to pay attention to the details of the room which preceded the Great Hall’s entrance, which had been decorated so gorgeously for the Yule Ball, in the Triwizard Tournament year. There wasn’t as much sparkle and illumination but the biggest difference was, undoubtedly, people’s faces… Previously so happy and full of expectations concerning the music, the food, the whisperings to come, and now their faces only showed anxiety and disgust, awaiting their undesired dates.

She thought, caught between weeping and desperate humour, that place was comparable to the St. Mungos waiting room; where people didn’t know what they would find in the consulting room, but they could be sure it wouldn’t be something good. The Great Hall entrance was open; however, Ginny couldn’t see inside clearly. As she was about to squint and deepen the inspection, a figure claimed her attention.

There he was standing, turned back, leaning against one of the pillars supporting the ceiling, monstrously high on that part of the Castle.

The time has arrived. The time to deal with Draco Malfoy.


	2. ...Ball?

Ginny raised her head as if the weight of the world was on her nape and walked towards him, convinced the best she could do for her loved ones was to be strong. She thought about the irony of Ginny Weasley herself feeling so absurdly alone and feckless when she was known for her strength and impulsiveness — and the presence of Dementors around the school wasn’t improving her mood. She was surrounded by Dementors, Death Eaters and ferrets. _Perfect._

She stopped halfway and grimaced.

There was not any other viable way left to defer the encounter; “confrontation”, as her mind insisted on defining. He was standing in an awkward, tense position, facing The Great Hall’s entrance as if trying to capture something coming from there. Being where she was, out of his sight, had two distinct aspects: the negative one was she would be deferring the inevitable and postponing her torture session… The positive one was she could observe him for a little bit longer and guarantee he hadn’t brought anything lethal that could hurt her severely. Not to mention his wand, of course. At least, she was pretty decent when dealing with wands.

As usual, his outfit appeared to be of excellent quality, dark over the pale skin. She wondered if he was aware of the fact that those black clothes left on him a dreadful resemblance to a corpse… even the savourless Slytherin green would fit better on that white ferret than the absolute black. She noticed the long sleeves, presumptively covering up his Dark Mark which identified him as a Death Eater, and felt shivers as she was reminded of the dark masks enclaving her two years ago at the Ministry of Magic. There wasn’t a strand of hair misaligned; she got surprised at his decision to go back on old habits and apply gel on it, as he used to during his first years in Hogwarts, combed back to perfection — and more surprised at the thought of remembering with precision about his hairstyle during those years. People’s mind could store the most useless details.

As so many others, she supposed, he had grown up; from that distance, he was almost at the same height as Ron, although thinner. There was no sign of beard, despite of him being close to complete eighteen years old. Doubtless, he wasn’t what Ginny would have by handsome, not with that overlong face, exorbitant paleness and aristocratic countenance… But something was there, she could tell… Nothing that could propitiate a second look, though. That is, save for that night, as she could not fight against her natural curiosity. She preferred thinking the sudden interest was due to the forced encounter. Yes, it was certainly due to that.

But nothing else would draw attention to him as the fact that he didn’t look _young_ despite of the age: his grey eyes, per usual glistening with arrogance and often begging for a punch or jinx, were then opaque as if waiting for something bad and inevitable to happen. Ginny tried to picture what could have happened to him after the battle at the Astronomy Tower, and for the first time she didn’t finish the thought with a _“If something bad happened it was well deserved”._ The last she heard, while still at the Burrow, You-Know-Who had settled in the Malfoy Manor — a guest whose host could not afford to displease.

She approached gulping; ordering her legs to at least pretend, given they did not have the courage to behave with dignity. He sensed her approach and turned his head at her direction: his face did not show anything at all, just a cold mask which Ginny presumed he had learnt to display during his holidays among giant snakes and lunatic wizards, a few months ago. She remained put, standing in front of him, trying to bring some defiance to her eyes even though she knew it was fruitless; it was too late and she would not accomplish a thing by rebelling. At best she would end up as Neville, injured because of an unthinking act.

And contrary to all expectations that could have been created by her mind, Draco Malfoy held out his left hand, gloved and with the palm up, in a resigned gesture that could only belong to someone who had lost every battle.

His hand kept still as if asking for something. It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, precluding Ginny to find amusement in the situation formed inside her little head: a Malfoy _asking for something_ to a Weasley. Normally it would be funny, but it was also true that, normally, Draco Malfoy wouldn’t have bothered to even glance at her.

The whole world had stopped as she raised her right hand; when she was almost touching his, Ginny found out the reason why his eyes had piqued her interest: they were eyes of someone who was just about to cross the thin line between sanity and insanity. At last she laid her hand on his; soon afterwards she realised she _trembled_ at her discovery — for a brief and mad period of time, she thought she could help Draco Malfoy, ask (was he asking for help?) the Order of the Phoenix to protect him, talk to Harry…

He interrupted her incoherent thoughts by raising his eyebrow and staring at her hand over his, in the single indication that he knew she was there and, somehow, he had guessed those awkward thoughts running through her mind. Ginny scolded herself inwardly once she understood he had felt her trembling like a bloody coward. 

Then, in a subtle movement he began to walk, leading Ginny, her small and freckled hand on his, and gradually a peculiar image was coming to light — she would lock up herself for an entire week just to avoid the imminent chatter about that scene... whether or not in the midst of a war, people had a tendency to cling to futile pleasures induced by gossips.

His silence didn’t unsettle her. In fact, quite the opposite; it was better that way. If they were obliged to participate in this farce, it was preferable to get it done quick and bluntly. It was already a relief he had not said anything offensive (yet), neither had tried to jinx her nor practice Unforgivable Curses on her (yet).

At last they have entered in The Great Hall. The décor was not much different, although it seemed more alive, what was a logical impression since The Great Hall was fuller. Ginny noticed that all those considered pure-blood wizards had chosen their dates of free and spontaneous will. The exception, of course, resided on those whom were blood-traitors, as she was. 

She felt her heart sink when Neville came across her mind; he could have chosen any girl to accompany him, but instead he had chosen to protest. She remembered with fondness how they used to hide in the hallways, painting on the walls words of the Order, spreading for those who had eyes to read the Dumbledore Army was still standing.

The Hogwarts’ professors won an honour seat next to the Headmaster at the platform placed for the occasion, and Ginny thought it was similar to a King’s stratum, escorted by his most loyal subjects. She couldn’t avoid concluding the students were playing the role of court jester, as one of those muggles stories Harry told her once. Some professors appeared to bear the same impression as hers: McGonagall was sitting in such a stance that made her even more adamant than an ogre with torticollis; the plump Professor Sprout was unquiet, as if wanting nothing but the refugee of her greenhouse; and Professor Flitwick was even smaller than usual, threaded in the cushion of his chair as if wanting to be anywhere else but there.

Snape, or rather, Headmaster Snape, was impassive, carrying a defiant expression of _‘I have killed Dumbledore, does someone have anything against that?’_ Ginny could not look at him anymore; it was painful. Nonetheless, Malfoy had other plans: he decided to go before the headmaster, as if saying _‘Look at me, I am with the pauper Weasley, I am doing everything you impose me to do, I’m a loyal to your cause’_. Ginny could not help but think he was expecting that, perhaps, by those means, he could get some peace. Amycus Carrow was right next to Snape and not even tried to shun the guffaw when he set his eyes on them. _Definitely, the Malfoys are in dire straits_ , she reckoned with a tad of pity. She shook her head, pushing away that feeling, which while on the subject, was manifesting itself more often than desired.

Still, some students were relaxed, mainly those who belonged to Slytherin; they were dancing to a song from a band unknown to Ginny, but soon she realised it was not good… maybe she just was not in the mood for a song. Then with dismay she realised he was leading her to a group formed in essence by poisonous snakes, also known as Slytherins. Appalled, she sought for Blaise, only to find his obnoxious colleagues: Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Gregory Goyle.

Ginny had the urge to leave and search for her Gryffindor compatriots, see how they were holding on, although she knew the majority of them had escaped from more unpleasant dates such as hers... it all led her to believe the Carrow Siblings’ creativity had reached their apex when selecting _her_ date. In any case, the unyielding hand of Malfoy was frustrating her wishes, relentless as he kept on leading her — she could not get rid of his grip with ease or without getting noticed. That would bin away all the torture which preceded the Ball, all the anger, the nervousness, the temporary resignation... Nothing would have been worth it.

Malfoy got closer to the group and for the first time he smiled; but it was one of those smiles that would never reach the eyes, which in his case remained opaque and elusive. He pulled her almost with courtesy, as if for a moment she was in fact his date, a decent girl deserving of his company, and Ginny's keen instinct alerted her instantly.

“Why so tense, Weasley?” he said, looking at her with a spark of cynicism in his frigid eyes. “We’re already fulfilling our role to entertain the mass” he motioned his head to the Carrow Siblings, and the slight gesture caused for some strands of his platinum blond hair to fall over his eyes.

“I’d rather you a few instants ago, when I thought a hippogriff had eaten your tongue,” she said with a scathing tone.

“Good to know there is a side of me you’d rather--” His eyes fell on her, ruthless. “That will remind me of never demonstrating this side when near to you.” She tried to remove her hand curtly, but he closed his fingers around hers with a painful pressure. “You won’t get rid without causing a stir and I assume this is as much as unwelcomed to your cause as is for mine. We have to play this comedy for a little bit longer,” he said with his teeth clenched, as if the words were coming out with a lot of effort.

“I don’t believe it’s really necessary, everyone has seen how good we are behaving ourselves.” She tried to loosen the grip. “I’ve smiled so much without willing that my face will be like this forever,” she complained more to herself than to him, after a moment of silence.

“It wouldn’t be all bad, then. It would divert the focus from others disagreeable aspects of you,” he finished with a cynical giggle and Ginny understood what prompted Harry to cast a spell such as _Sectumsempra_ on him; if she could, she would have done very similarly.

However, she did not let her irritation slip through in her reply. “Are you saying I have such a glaring smile, _Draco_?” she emphasized his name, and for a millisecond, she felt his hand getting rigid. Ginny was then ecstatic by her petty revenge. “Does your life need smiles so badly? Oh, I see it needs! Living with no prestige under You-Know-Who’s wings must be depressing,” she completed with a poisoned smirk; his eyes gained a metallic lustre which Ginny’s mind registered as an obvious sign of danger.

He tightened even more her hand in his, and she could not avoid a small groan of pain. “Would you care to meet some people?” It was his only response to her insinuation about his family situation, apparently disgraced before Voldemort’s eyes.

Malfoy was not interested in waiting for her answer as he kept leading her towards where he wanted. Soon she found herself in the middle of a circle, still hand in hand with him, a growing claustrophobic panic within her. All of a sudden, she was no longer Ginny Weasley, the popular girl, Quidditch player, symbol of strength and independence; she was an eleven years old girl, reddening as much as the red of her hair when near to Harry Potter, terrified of diaries, hidden underneath her mother’s skirt.

Then Malfoy said, with his drawling voice more alive than she thought it would be, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce you to the filthiest pure-blood witch of the United Kingdom… as deplorable as her dress.” He released her hand.

Between barely contained giggles and venomous gazes, everything collapsed on Ginny’s head — and the most aggravating was to deal with the surge of impotence, which she had not experienced for at least five years then. The humiliation before those people made her think about Neville, about Dumbledore sprawled in a weird position on the ground, about George with his ear gushing out, about Bill scarred on a hospital bed, about Ron lost because of a close to impossible mission… and looking at those people, whose parents were directly or indirectly connected to all the misfortunes her family had gone through for the past years, she just could not take it any longer.

She turned and ran without worrying about bumping into someone and, for the first time since she came back from The Burrow, since she noticed Harry was gone after Bill’s wedding, for the first time… she truly cried.

Ginny ran for a while, and only stopped after going through lots of doors and vaults as her breath did not allow her to go any further without asphyxiating. _Everyone is entitled to a few moments of cowardice_ , she thought with bitterness, _even the ‘perfect’ Ginny Weasley_. Maybe that was the exact point: she was tired of playing the “perfect and strong” part. She just wanted everything to end as soon as possible so she could get her life back.

Ginny kept wandering until she realised she had went to some kind of a huge terrace, which had a great and wide sight of the school landscape; she was able to see the beginning of the Forbidden Forest and a portion of the Great Lake. She held her breath, stunned by the fact that, after six years studying there, she still had not visited all the places that _could_ be visited.

However, not even the beautiful sight provided by the terrace could stop her from throwing away her shoes with violence, imagining they were the heads of all despicable Slytherins on Earth. Once again she had the urge to rip out her dress and throw it away as well, but somewhere deep in her subconscious her rational side projected a scene of her walking through the hallways of the school up to the east tower, where the Gryffindor Common Room was located, semi-nude, trying to sneak behind suit armours and old curtains. Upon careful consideration of that scene, she halted her Weasley temper.

Ginny limited herself to sigh, and with a small leap she settled down on the border of the terrace, her back turned to the access door and her little feet swinging carelessly. The probability of getting hurt by falling from up there was quite inexistent; not because the lack of people who would like to pull her, but because despite of her unbridled escape, she hadn't gone beyond the ground floor of the castle. Therefore, even if the terrain was irregular, the fall was not high enough.

She could concentrate on her thoughts; the yearning for home and the thirst to get into the fight... and growing up! That stupid Ball and the incident with the white ferret had taken the biscuit, and as a matter of fact, she had thought there were no more biscuits to be taken. A winter wind blew with more force, raising her long and red hair which she had not made the effort to tie: it was pulled back, almost reaching her hip. She wished the wind would take all her anxieties with it.

Ginny realised she was cold, inside and out.

"This intensive Quidditch practice got you a pretty fine conditioning, Redhead.” Blaise came forth, catching his breath. “It took me some time to find you here." 

Ginny turned her head to see him, and the look she gave him was to all appearances far from friendly, as Blaise raised his hand right after in a gesture of surrender. "I came in peace."

"Where were you when I was being eaten by those baby basilisks? You would've been very useful since you're immune to their poison." Although her anger was lessening, leaving room for sheer frustration, she still had to disburden somehow. "I thought you'd be with them for the night and maybe I'd have someone I could to talk to... At least while the toffee-nosed ferret was by my side." She sighed.

Blaise reckoned it was safe enough to attempt an approach and propped his elbows on the border of the terrace, using his hands as a holder for his chin. It was an outlandish sight, as if she was seeing him, the tall Zabini, from the top for the first time ever. He offered her one of his famous tight-lipped smiles in response to the nickname Ginny put on his friend. "I was looking after my interests... and devising excuses to get rid of Pansy, who wouldn't stop yakking about Draco and his distant demeanour. See, both of you share the appreciation for badmouthing my dear friend Malfoy." Ginny simulated a fake vomit over the comparison. "Or it might be just because of his poor finesse when it comes to women." He wondered.

Ginny decided to ignore Parkinson’s complaints and Malfoy’s “poor finesse”; her attention got caught by something else.

“What sort of interests?” she asked with her usual vivacity back.

“Politics. A word well put for the Headmaster here, an insinuation to the Carrow Siblings there… In politics and negotiations all that matters is the right connections.” He explained absentminded.

Again, Ginny felt that Blaise was an awful person to keep around. Schemer, selfish, egocentric, arrogant... dangerous. She knew he was using their "friendship" as a second plan, in case things went sour to Voldemort; but she could not stop asking herself if he had not sufficient guarantees that nothing would happen to him if Voldemort fell. Besides, after months of acquaintanceship, Ginny did not have anything concrete against him, and she would be a valuable witness if necessary. She stared at him for a few instants.

“Sometimes I wonder why you bother looking after my presence. You already know I could get you Harry’s indulgence, and so the wizarding world’s, if needed.” She said callously.

“A good question indeed, which I ask myself very often. I know the seeds I planted in your noble Gryffindor soul will bear fruits,” he made a dramatic pause, “ _if needed_. Therefore, I conclude I look after you only because I truly enjoy your presence.”

She widened her eyes. This was _so wrong!_ Blaise Zabini saying he _truly enjoyed_ Ginny Weasley’s presence! He might just have started to defend the peaceful living between muggles and wizards.

He laughed, guessing her thoughts. “Oh, no, you should efface those ideas about a world divided in bad and good people without any intersection between them. Furthermore, don’t delude your poor little heart about the verb ‘enjoy’. You’re definitely not my type, Redhead.”

Ginny opened and closed her mouth before answering, wavering between utter shame for thinking he could have any love-related interest on her, and utter outrage for he had just admitted, openly, he used their "friendship" for political purposes.

However, she chose to turn, come down from the border with a jump, and walk barefoot towards the door.

“Come on, Blaise. It’s time to get some news about Neville and go to bed. The wizarding world may end tomorrow and I don’t want to die knowing I’ve spent my last night with you," she stated with a playful blink as he nodded and followed her, unfathomable as ever.

She wanted nothing but that day to end soon... as all the other days to come, she was certain.

Perhaps she also wanted, more even, to forget about that one time she thought she could help Draco Malfoy. People like him were beyond salvation.

_Or weren’t?_ Involuntarily she went away with that thought on her mind.


	3. A Longer Visit to Aunt Muriel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> An attentive observer will notice that I’ve changed the description of this story. I did it because now I know where I want it to go. I hope you don't mind.
> 
> And a chronological addendum can be useful right now: this chapter takes place during the Easter holiday - where Ginny obtained permission to leave school and had to go into hiding-, until the beginning of the Battle of Hogwarts, on the first day of May. Thus, it covers almost two months of history, following this period from Ginny's point of view.
> 
> In Deathly Hallows’ perspective, in this period the trio is captured by the hunters and taken to Malfoy Manor, where they fight Bellatrix Lestrange and free Luna, Griphook and Mr. Ollivander. They manage to escape and then go to Bill and Fleur's house, where Harry buries Dobby's body - killed at Malfoy Manor - and plans to assault Gringotts with Hermione, Ron and Griphook.
> 
> Everyone returns to Hogwarts on the same day that the trio performs the assault. This is exactly the point where the chapter ends.
> 
> Thank you for putting up with me and my obsession with canon chronology.

_ April, 1998 _

Aunt Muriel’s house was, to put it mildly, _unconventional_. Yes, she was rich, there was no denying it. However, all in all, her eccentricity coupled with excess of money begot a rather peculiar combination. Money in hands of someone who had a doubtful taste could be compared to a wand in hands of a monkey: just would not be pleasant.

The house was _huge_ , with a lot of rooms, all of them decorated following basically the same standard; prints, garish colors and furniture that was probably centenary. Smelling like centenary furniture. And this quirky place was where Ginny had been staying since she could not come back to Hogwarts, after Easter. 

Ginny had waited anxiously her return to The Burrow during the Easter holiday, in hope of getting information and news, which were so scarce in Hogwarts. But she ended up in a middle of turmoil of events, culminating in her going to Aunt Muriel’s house, along with her family. 

She barely had her feet on the ground out of the Hogwarts Express at King’s Cross, settling down once again in The Burrow, when Bill came to their encounter. 

He had entered by the kitchen’s opened door, fast as lightning. Arthur and Ginny were sat around the table, waiting for Molly to finish dinner. It was common to members of the Order appear suddenly at The Burrow, but that one time a kind of instinct made Molly drop the kitchen utensils as soon as Bill walked in. Arthur stopped reading the newspaper and Ginny, who was playing with breadcrumbs over the table such was her boredom, felt her heart sinks in face of the instantaneous tension of her mother.

“Which one of them, Bill?” Molly asked, turning toward her son’s direction, seeking for support against the kitchen’s sink. 

“Ron.” He said simply. Realising the tonality Molly’s face had acquired, Bill completed as fast as he could. “He’s alive, mum. We don’t know in which _conditions_ , but he’s alive. The Death Eaters confirmed what they already suspected since the beginning: that Ron and Hermione were with Harry, although they don’t know what those three are planning.” He grimaced, mostly because he realised the Order of the Phoenix itself did not know what those three were planning or doing. “They were captured by Fenrir Greyback’s pack and taken to the Malfoy’s Manor. From there on, it’s not known for certain how, or under what conditions, they managed to escape.” When talking about the werewolf, Bill instantly touched the scars on his face, probably remembering their last encounter.

For a moment, it seemed to Ginny that her brother knew more than he was willing to tell, but her mind was already working flat out. 

Her first reaction was a sink on her heart, because of the uncertainty about Ron, Harry and Hermione’s fate. 

The second was a tad more unpredictable: listen to the Malfoy’s name made Ginny’s mind put together all the connections she was trying to avoid since the bloody Hogwarts’ Ball, two months ago. She could not help wondering if Draco Malfoy still had that look emanating desperate, in a silent request for help. She shook her head to dismiss the thought, remembering the cruel words once said by Malfoy. The only thing she could do was cutting away from those unwanted memories and wish he had not done anything bad to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“But we have to find them and…” Molly was trying to say, containing the tears that were about to burst.

Upon hearing what Bill had said, Arthur was getting close to rival with the paleness of his wife. He stood up and put his hands around the Molly’s chubby shoulders.

“Bill came here to tell us we must hide ourselves. Isn’t that right, son?” Arthur said staring at his older son, who nodded to his father in agreement. “All we can do for them, for Ron, is to protect ourselves, darling.”

It was not as if no plan had been prepared in case those unwished situations occur. It was something even expected, in a certain way. Ron, Fred, George and their father had transfigured the family ghoul to resemble Ron sick with Spattergroit, and then he could be free to accompany Harry without raising suspicions from the Death Eaters. But there was a generalized sentiment that the farce would not last much long, and when it finally happened, the Weasley family would be the first Death Eaters’ target on the search for Harry Potter.

“I need to see Fred and George before, try to warn Charlie, say to him we’re all fine and…” Molly insisted, taking her husband’s hand.

She was interrupted again, then by Bill “I managed a way to get through Charlie. He already knows we’re going into hiding and while I’m here, Tonks is talking with the twins and escorting them to the hideout. We must cast a _Fidelius Charm_ ; dad will be the Secret Keeper.”

“Aunt Muriel’s house.” Ginny said grudgingly. Bill acknowledged her presence for the first time and smiled.

“Yes. Aunt Muriel’s house is the safest place we could’ve found, for now. And something tells me you won’t need to stay there for a long time.” He said sounding enigmatic.

Ginny took the chance to request something she had been keeping to herself. “Bill, I won’t ask you to tell me what you know or may come to know about Harry,” Her expression of _‘I know there is more’_ did not leave doubts about what she was thinking relative to Bill’s inclination to tell everything he was aware of. “Just… Don’t let anything bad happen to him, please.”

He nodded in assent with a simper. “I’ll do everything I can. And maybe something more.”

Bill and Ginny always had a close relationship, despite the age gap. He was the brother she admired the most, and he hardly could keep things from her for a long time. He indicated the door, still smiling, in a clear gesture of _‘hurry up, prat!’_

And that was how she had ended up there, Aunt Muriel’s house, almost two months ago. There was not much _intel_ about the rest of the world, anyways. Aunt Muriel, at the height of her hundred years old, was a little bit intransigent with the flux of people who were visiting her house, so, as the first weeks passed by, they had fewer and fewer visitors. In a certain way, Molly Weasley was grateful for that, but Ginny could not do anything but get more apprehensive.

She tried to occupy her mind practicing spells she had learnt by the time Harry taught them in the Dumbledore’s Army, and also after, when she herself began teaching and helping the new and old recruits that remained at Hogwarts.

The problem was to practice _alone_ ; her parents were always busy confabulating things about the Order and Fred and George spent the most part of the time in a back room of the house, continuing to work at distance through the owl post service they had created. In Ginny’s opinion, it was a clever way to keep up with the business while they were confined there. However, Aunt Muriel did not appreciate the idea at all. Especially after she has tasted _accidentally_ a ton-tongue toffee, _accidentally_ left by George alongside the glass of water in which she kept her denture before going to bed. Ginny thought that after the _accident_ , Fred and George definitely were disinherited.

On a particular day, after convincing Fred to practice with her, Ginny walked towards the Owlery to check if any news from outside world had arrived. 

Musing with herself on further consideration, convince Fred about anything was equivalent to a _‘You won’t have what you want’_ certificate; her twin brothers had this morbid pleasure in doing exactly what was not expected of them.

Ginny remembered that one time, at Christmas, when her mother covered The Burrow with protective enchantments against all the possible tricks the twins could prepare, but they behaved themselves sweetly, in a Percy representation. Ginny thought there was something very comical and satirical on the way they imitated Percy’s manners, yet her mother was too happy to notice those nuances. It was a shame that the sweet behavior only lasted long enough to break the family expectations once more, coming back to what they truly were. Ginny, though, thanked Merlin for it. One Percy was already plenty difficult to deal with.

But the point was Ginny did not have anyone to cast a spell on. Indeed, she had _nothing_ to do. She stroked Pigwidgeon’s head, and remained at the Owlery, waiting for news that would never come. After she sighed half-heartedly for the thirteenth time in less than ten minutes, a voice spoke behind her.

“Have you ever heard that _an idle brain is the devil's workshop?_ ” Her father had entered the Owlery; he looked around and chose an old stool to sit on, not without making sure there was not owl poop on it. “It’s an old Muggle proverb. Maybe we should adjust to ‘ _an idle brain is the You-Know-Who’s workshop’_.”

Ginny stroked Pigwidgeon once again before took a seat next to her father. “It’s not as if I had many options to keep my brain working.” She did not need to add that her mind — better, her _heart_ , was far away from Aunt Muriel’s house. He was her father, after all; he would not need bigger details concerning her love life. 

“Your brothers aren’t having many problems. In fact, they have been very busy.” He said trying to sound optimist.

“I would be surprised if they _weren’t_ busy. I guess if they don’t release some energy, probably they would be identical to mad Blast-Ended Skrewts.” She said jokingly and Arthur smiled slightly in agreement.

“Although I guess the most restive of my children isn’t any of them.” He said putting his forefinger on her snub nose, pretending not committing an indiscretion. She laughed. “Ginny, I know how much this is complicated to you, but it’s for a greater…”

“Daddy, I’ve already memorized this greater good speech. Harry seems to sympathize _a lot_ with it.” She interposed gently. “I understand, really. I just hate feeling like that, wanting so desperately everything was simpler, because it makes me realise I’m being selfish. But sometimes, I can’t avoid…”

“Everyone feels like that at some point. Or do you think I feel like the symbol of altruism when your mother throws away my Muggle artefacts?” He said thoughtful and Ginny was surprised; in her conception, her parents’ relationship had always been the example of perfection. “The big question is: what do you do with those bad sentiments? If you let them get the best of you and you surrender, then we’ll have a _huge_ problem, maybe a one-way road. But if you decide to accept those bad sentiments exist and somehow are a part of you, gradually you can even turn them into your favour. Knowing your flaws can make of you a better person.” He smiled on that way she loved so much. 

Ginny looked at him, with the red hair scattering on the top of the head, the gentle smile on his face, the hands intertwined over his lap, with that thoughtful gesture she knew so well. The wave of tenderness she felt was tranquilliser. She rested her head on his shoulder.

They stood there, in silence, until her mother shouted from the foot of the stairs that provided access to the Owlery “Ginny, sweetie, I need some help with the kitchen. And we have a few potions to stock!”

She rolled her eyes in a clear demonstration of _‘we are in a middle of a war, yet she still can think about household chores’_. “I’m coming, mum!” She shouted in response.

“That is something to occupy your brain,” Her father said, observing her reaction.

“Household chores?” She asked annoyed.

“Also, if it ensures you won’t be sulking around the house. It’s the escape valve of your mother, at least. But I was talking about the _potions_. You’ve been showing yourself excellent in flying and casting spells, but you leave much to be desired when it comes to potions.” She flushed. It was not common for people to point out the things she was not good at. “What you need is a challenge, something you can devote yourself. Help your mother with the potion-making. Spells and jinxes are the bravest weapon of a wizard, but it doesn’t mean potions aren’t important at all. They are just more… Discreet.”

Ginny grimaced before the idea of devoting herself on potion-making, but remembered she was talking to one of the gentlest people in the entire world, one of the people she loved the most. So, she sighed and nodded.

And that is how she had ended up in the world of potions.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXxXxXxXxX

The following weeks at Aunt Muriel’s house were very tranquil for Ginny, as though the world was holding its breath, in one of those moments that precede the climax of a situation. In fact, this did not seem a very good omen. 

The only moment that has broken her routine happened when Mr. Ollivander arrived with Bill intending to get a refuge at Aunt Muriel’s house. It was comparable to feel a cool breeze at the desert; he had brought news about Harry, Ron and Hermione.

The trio were safe at the Shell Cottage, along with Luna and Dean. Ginny jumped off the chair and hugged Bill while the twins celebrated with cheers and shouts. She tried to convince Bill to lead her to them, but it was as much unsuccessful as singing a lullaby to a Whomping Willow. Her parents — and Bill — were unyielding.

“You are safe here, Ginny. Any awkward moving could raise suspicions that we certainly don’t need right now. But don’t be nervous, I’m helping those three the best way I can.” Bill smiled as Aunt Muriel had entered the room.

“William! Haven’t you cut your hair yet? Oh, what is this you have in hands? My tiara? I thought your French wife would keep it forever!”

And thus, they had spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening, between Aunt Muriel’s mean commentaries and information exchange. Her mother seemed so willing to not let Bill leave that her father had to intercede. And when he left, Ginny became sad again, although now she had something concrete to lean her hopes on: all the three of them were alive and well! She fell asleep cherished by that thought for many nights.

Meanwhile, as incredible as it may seem, dealing with potions had proven to be quite of a pastime. Ginny considered this was due to the fact that the absence of Snape was vital; making potions without the greasy git behind her hovering as a permanent shadow was undeniably funnier.

Aunt Muriel’s house also had turned out to be a warehouse of ingredients — she had found the most improbable ones, from Acromantula Venom to Dragon Scales. She spent most of the time doing experiments, following old recipes, new recipes, and even could afford to try new ones, yet the result was not positive in nine of ten attempts. She was still far away from boasting for being an excellent potioneer, although at least she was having an intensive course.

She had found the truth in her father’s words; devoting to an activity such as brewing potions demanded intense concentration and disconnection from the outside world. It was necessary an extreme accuracy when choosing ingredients, on how to treat them; wariness and strictness were mandatory, as well as absolute attention regarding the monitoring of the potion. 

“It’s almost art…” she whispered to herself, while stirring a cauldron full with a Hiccoughing Solution. It seemed the surprises hidden in the potions would never end to her.

Under this perspective, the ‘confinement’ helped a lot. She had the opportunity to learn a little bit with everyone in the house. Molly has willingly accepted to help her; those were moments that only their silence and their cauldrons mattered. Molly shared with her family recipes, patiently guarded until the day any of her children demonstrated interest in learning.

Arthur was not less solicitous; watching his idea bearing fruits on his daughter’s head gave him peace. Ginny could not say her father was a friend of potions, however, his never-ending patience and curiosity made him a great company.

In this sense, the presence of Mr. Ollivander was quite welcome as well. As a result of one of her new experiments, Ginny literally blew up her wand, which bounced off violently beside her and lost Aunt Muriel's head by the skin of her teeth.

Usually, she did not think fate conspired in her favour, but there she was, with a shattered wand and living with a wandmaker. _Well, well._

Then, with Bill's help - who cleverly had arranged the material requested by Mr. Ollivander - Ginny now had a new wand. An excellent one. Mr. Ollivander had helped her get the best of her new wand; with 9 ½ inches, flexible, mahogany, it was the first time she felt her wand was a natural extension of her right arm. 

Even Aunt Muriel showed herself lenient with Ginny; although there were always contestations such as “ _Ginevra, you are cutting those slugs with the ability of a troll!_ ”, she also was always willing to get more ingredients and give one or two constructive hunches. Ginny could swear the old witch knew more about potions than what she was willing to tell, but this slight support from her aunt was probably way much more than Fred and George could dream in receiving for their “activities”.

Actually, Fred and George were a special case, apart. They had a natural ability to deal with new things; they have helped Ginny on the most various combinations, explained to her the functioning of some products from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes based on potions (after she took an oath that she would never use those secrets to “get in the competition market”, according to their own words). 

George even had discovered that mashing blowfish thorns instead of just cutting them provided a better taste — acceptable taste — to the Swelling Solution.

On one of those funny afternoons that the siblings spent together brewing potions, Fred conjured a black fabric, flung over his shoulders and began to talk, obviously on an imitation of Professor Snape. “Today our class will address the relevant aspects of one of the most important potions in the wizarding world: The Hangover Potion.”

“Come on-” Ginny started to protest.

“Another ten points from Gryffindor! Anyone else has objections?”

Ginny looked to George and noticed he seemed to have entered into the game. He was sitting with the legs crossed and with a lifted nose, in a snobbish sort of way. He was clearly imitating the Slytherin students, and to each stupid phrase he said, _‘Snape’_ guaranteed more and more benefits to Slytherin. When passing through the imitation of the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy, Ginny decided it was better to stop.

“Stop the both of you!” Ginny said, controlling her laugh “Why would I want a Hangover Potion? I can’t even go further than a tankard of butterbeer!”

“She’s right, Fred.” George said, coming back to himself. “Teaching Ginny this potion would only induce her to try out its functionality.”

“And for _that_ , she would need some shots of firewhisky.” Fred completed.

They were talking as if she was not there.

“And only Merlin knows what would happen if she decided to take those shots near to Harry.” George completed with a terrifying malicious countenance.

They have turned simultaneously towards her and said in unison. “No Hangover Potion to you!”

Ginny, who was almost as red as her hair, opened her mouth to reply with some insult when she felt something warm up against the pocket of her pants.

It was the fake galleon of the Dumbledore Army given by Hermione, who had enchanted it so they could set a date and hour to meet at the Room of Requirement, out of the claws of Dolores Umbridge. Ginny had made Neville promise he would only use it under one and only condition.

_Harry_.

She looked at the twins, who seemed to follow her line of thought, subtly alert and identically serious. They became tense and Ginny felt a mix of emotions, relief and horror.

It was time to come back to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re reading this story, please, consider leaving a comment. It’d be great to know if it’s worth keeping this up.


	4. The Battle of Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story (which encompasses this chapter and the next) narrates the events of the Battle of Hogwarts under Ginny's perspective. This has caused me a bit of a problem, because many of the scenes that involve Ginny and Harry in the same 'space' are the ones we saw in the books, so I tried to be succinct in some parts and not repeat what we’ve already read in the book. Well, as result, the chapter often seems to be a little more descriptive. But I needed it just like that.
> 
> As I said, I have this chapter and the next one more or less underway. After that, I don't know what will happen, it’ll depends on the demand and feedback, I guess.

**4 – The Battle of Hogwarts**

_Early May, 1998_

When she arrived at Hog’s Head Inn and headed to Hogwarts along with her twin brothers - under the protests of Abeforth, who flatly refused to agree willingly with people coming in and out of his house - Ginny's adrenaline had already reached stratospheric levels. 

As soon as she passed through the hole in the wall protected by the portrait of Ariana Dumbledore, which gave access to the Room of Requirement, she saw Harry there and she trembled at the impossibility of _touching_ him or finally saying everything that was implied between both of them since their last kiss at The Burrow, when he turned seventeen years old.

However, all the allure of the moment was temporarily broken when she saw Cho Chang right behind her; the girl awakened in Ginny all the sentiments she most hated to feel: insecurity, jealousy, uncertainty…

 _Calm down, Ginny_ , she thought to herself. _Cho Chang is the least of your problems._

There was a more heated discussion happening and Ginny noticed that, as usual, Harry did not want more people getting involved in whatever he was doing. 

Taking her attention away from Harry for a minute, Ginny saw that almost all of her friends were there and she had to stop the urge of hugging each one of them: they needed help, not demonstrations of nostalgic amenities.

Eventually Harry has yielded to the arguments — far more logical arguments, by the way — and admitted he was looking for something that could be at the Ravenclaw tower: A Diadem, which had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. _Why_ exactly he was looking for that was beyond Ginny's comprehension; she could not help wondering about the vast number of things Harry kept to himself, or at most, shared only with Ron and Hermione. She sighed timidly, trying to concentrate on the Diadem problem. She did not know what the word meant, although it was familiar to her... She wrinkled her snub nose focusing on her thinking and, when she was almost developing the idea of what the bloody thing could be, her reasoning was abruptly interrupted.

Cho Chang, overflowing with solicitude, offered herself to show Harry what a Diadem was like, at the Ravenclaw tower. Ginny's blood boiled up; she did not even want to imagine Cho Chang's _Diadem_ in Harry's hands, at the Ravenclaw _dormitory_. She knew she was being selfish in thinking like that in a critical hour like that, but Ginny's hormones did not allow her to be more altruistic than most teenagers.

Ginny's most primitive instincts had to kick in. Luna, who had arrived just before her, appeared as the saviour of her day. “No. Luna's taking Harry, isn't she, Luna?” Ginny said in a failed attempt to appear casual. It was only when she heard her Ravenclaw friend's affirmative answer that the tension in her body eased a little bit.

And then they have left in search of the Diadem and Ginny could not understand the reason why. She could only wait, walking from one side to another, trying to occupy her mind with thoughts that were not noxious to her spirit.

To her relief, her parents arrived a little later along with Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Bill, Fleur, Kinsgley and Lupin. Ginny cracked a smile so big that it hardly fit her face. It was so good to do _something!_ So good to see her family finally reunited!

However, what once was relief in seeing the arrival of the rest of the Order and Dumbledore's Army, soon transformed itself into barely contained anger when Molly said Ginny would not fight. After a few effusive hugs among everyone, Ginny was 'kindly' informed that she would have to go back home. This time, the reddish colour that her face acquired was not due to shame; it had all to do with the feeling that, no matter how much she accomplished, defended herself, fought, they would never see her as an equal.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to hex her mother. Then, she looked at her father in a silent cry for help that would never come.

“I can't go home!” She said vehemently trying hard to hold back her tears. "You’re all here, my family..."

"It's not under discussion! You’re going home! This is no place for children." It was Molly’s words and she repeated them a few more times as if the repetition of the words had the power to convince her most stubborn daughter. 

Ginny, in turn, stamped her foot, asked for help from her father, from her brothers, tried even to involve her friends. None of the alternatives worked out very well and she felt despair building inside her.

It was all so _unfair_!

When she opened her mouth for the umpteenth time to argue, Harry returned and it really looked like the battle had begun. The Room of Requirement was very crowded at that moment and it was with some relief that Ginny overheard that people there would have to go The Great Hall, for some reason that had slipped her attention.

Then Harry could help her! Her mother was in the middle of a lecture of what, to her, seemed to be disjointed words such as ‘underage’, ‘has no choice’, ‘go home’ but Ginny only had eyes to Harry and for the prospect that he might help her. 

And the resigned countenance in those green eyes when he looked at her was a bucket of cold water in her hopes.

Defeated by the insistence of everyone she loved, Ginny opened her mouth to declare her defeat. "Okay, I'll just say goodbye and-"

There was a noise inside the passage that led to the Room of Requirement and then, as if in an illusion, Percy appeared looking like he had crossed the United Kingdom on an ancient broomstick. His glasses were crooked on his face forming an odd angle; his robes, usually well aligned, were looking like the ones Ron used to wear.

Ginny had rarely felt such an awkward atmosphere among her family members. Molly was staring at her son, almost bursting into tears; Arthur was impassive, with a far too much pale colour on his face for Ginny's taste. The twins scowled at Percy and Ginny almost laughed at the thought that even that little reaction was performed at the exactly same time, in the exactly same way.

Lupin and Fleur were saying something but Ginny was so absorbed in her family that she barely registered that there was a conversation going on; the words hovering around her as the crying of a mandrake muffled by those pink and fluffy earmuffs used to shut out the sound in her Herbology classes

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lupin pulling a picture of his newborn son out of his pocket in a desperate and clumsy attempt to shatter the tension among the Weasley. Then Percy spoke up, or rather, roared, to everyone that had ears to hear.

“I was a fool!” he dramatically paused, “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a- a-” he babbled. 

And Ginny could tell with her eyes closed, in those infinitesimal seconds before an action, what would happen next. Her mother would cry, her father would be extremely proud, Fred and George would vent through jokes all frustration caused by the actions Percy had done in the past; Bill would smile condescendingly, the way only he knew how to do. 

_And I’m going to have a chance to escape_ , she thought triumphantly.

Once all the events she had foreseen - thanks to the sixth sense granted by years of living with her family - unfolded, one after another, Ginny saw her chance grow. They were too distracted with Percy to notice her. Maybe if she sneaked close to the walls, tried to get to the door...

“Ginny Weasley!”

And her mother's voice seemed to echo through the Room of Requirement. It would not have worked better if Molly had pointed her wand at her daughter and said: _Impedimenta._ At that moment Ginny knew she had no choice and would have to go home. She felt as if the ceiling and walls of Hogwarts were about to swallow her up, separate her from her family forever.

Lupin was the only one who interceded in Ginny’s favour suggesting she could stay in the Room of Requirement instead of going home; even Fred and George seemed a little embarrassed to have taken their sister there. 

_The nerve of those two gits!_

It was a tremendous injustice given that she was the one who had received the message from Neville. She had a _right_ to be there.

Even though it was a better option than going home, it was unthinkable to stay behind and being treated like a _bloody princess_. Her hand tightened on her wand as she wondered all sorts of spells she could use to get the hell out of there. But as skillful as she was, at the height of her sixteen years, she realised that she could not even pass by Bill, who was the one closest to her. If she insisted on doing something stupid maybe she might get near the door. _Stunned or burping up slugs_ , she completed with bitterness in her mind.

Finally, she decided the best strategy was to sit down, cross her arms pugnaciously and pout. Childish? Maybe. Desperate measure? Definitely.

And it was with morbid despair that she watched her entire family, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry, every single one of them leave through the front door of the Room of Requirement. And she was left alone there, among hammocks hanging under the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff banners and trinkets of all sorts, while a war was happening outside.

After some time, she heard the voice of Voldemort echoing through the walls of the castle, demanding Harry Potter himself and her heart sank over the perspective; _would someone have the guts to hand Harry over?_

She spent the several minutes she had on her disposal walking around the room, kicking every junk in her way, grumbling to herself, seasoning her words with a new kick in a random object on the floor.

"Flipping..." _kick_ "... crappy..." _kick_ "...war!" When she tried to kick again a box on the floor to punctuate the end of her sentence, she felt her feet hit something _very_ hard. Some idiot had shrunk a trunk. The sore ankle and the latent bad mood were enough to release Ginny's temper:

“BLOODY PIECE OF SH-” She cursed in a bursting anger.

Her poorly contained explosion was interrupted by the arrival of an old lady and a young woman with purple hair whom Ginny immediately recognised as Nymphadora Tonks.

“So, are these the good manners they’re teaching to the youngsters of Hogwarts?” The old lady said bluntly. "We should take the poison out of that mouth of yours to use it against You-Know-Who.” It did not take much intellectual effort of Ginny to deduce the old lady was no one but Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother. The hat with a stuffed vulture on it and the scarf made of fox fur could tell by themselves.

Ginny did not have time to open _that mouth of hers_ to answer and apologise - even if it would have been sound phony - and Harry walked back into the Room of Requirement with Ron and Hermione.

Neville’s grandmother seemed to forget completely about Ginny’s bad manners, asking for her grandson and leaving in the minute Harry informed her he was fighting, in a surge of pride. Ginny and Tonks asked simultaneously how everything was going outside, but, par for the course, Harry’s response was vague, thereby clarifying absolutely nothing.

“Ginny, I’m sorry but I need you to leave too. We need the Room of Requirement.” Harry said sounding worried. “You can come back after-“

Ginny erupted in delight, which was so overwhelming that she did not listen to any other word Harry had to say. _She would fight!_ Ginny did not waste her time trying to figure out what the hell Harry, Ron and Hermione were going to do in there and left quickly, ignoring Harry’s recommendations.

If it was not so ridiculous to do this in the middle of a big battle, she would have whirled with joy. At least she would have a chance to help!

As soon as Ginny left the Room of Requirement, she concentrated on hexing through the window any enemy within her reach. Harry, Hermione and Ron had left the Room of Requirement as well and Ginny deduced that they needed it to transform into something else so that they could enter it one more time. Her mind barely registered this information; she was far too busy casting spells on giants and Death Eaters, who were invading the Hogwarts’ grounds.

Abeforth Dumbledore walked past her shouting a few encouraging words, but she was too focused on stunning a Death Eater whose face she could not see, just a glimpse of his tousled brown hair. She was vaguely aware that Tonks was asking questions about Lupin's whereabouts and Ginny searched for Harry with her eyes in a silent request for him to comfort Tonks worries.

"He'll be fine, Tonks." Harry assured trying to allay her fears. Tonks, however, appeared to not have listened; she rushed off towards the stairs that led to the lower floors.

Ginny did not even hear when Ron, Hermione and Harry reentered the Room of Requirement. She had her chance now and would not go back there for nothing in the world. She would defend her family because finally, _finally_ , she would have her freedom. She resisted the almost overwhelming urge to run like crazy until she found her family and decided to peer into the corridor to be sure she was alone, her heart pounding in her chest. 

Glanced at the right and did not see anything but closed doors; she concluded it was better to follow the direction Tonks had taken.

When she was about to turn around the corner, her peripheral eye vision caught an odd motion coming from where, a few instants before, had been the door of the Requirement Room. She positioned herself behind a plate armour that, hopefully, could hide her presence.

Draco Malfoy and his two favorite minions appeared out of nowhere, as if they have been hidden under an invisible cloak until then. Ginny supposed they had used a kind of Disillusionment Charm, but she did not have time at her disposal to analyse further: she had to decide between stopping them from entering in the room – to obviously interfere in whatever Harry was doing there – or keep looking for her family.

For a fraction of second, while Draco Malfoy was staring at the wall trying to, Ginny supposed, get inside the room, she observed him. 

He seemed slightly thinner, even paler; she wondered if he had returned to school after the Easter holiday when she had fled. She had a feeling that the answer to that question was a plain no. Oblivious to her considerations, the door to the Room of Requirement emerged again and Crabbe and Goyle smiled grotesquely at each other, trying to enter the place as quietly as their size allowed. 

Unlike his companions, Malfoy just stood there for a while and seemed to notice Ginny's presence mere meters away, half covered by the plate armour at the end of the corridor. He glanced at her direction and their eyes met momentarily.

Draco shook his head calmly and Ginny felt her feet sink to the ground. His discreet gesture was a warning - but more than that, it was a plea for her not to interfere. The demonstration of someone who was so tired of fighting that he could not take another dispute, even one against her.

It was like he was asking her for a chance. The thought made Ginny catch her breath.

Ginny realised he still had those very same eyes that awakened in her so many muddled emotions two months before. They had not changed; still had that silent request of help on them and she could not avoid thinking about what would happen to him if those people around him kept on ignoring the fact he was on the edge of an emotional cliff.

Feeling helpless, she shrugged - that line of reasoning would not lead her to anywhere - and turned away, before even check if he did or did not enter in the room. 

_Maybe, it’s your chance of doing what is right, Malfoy._

Besides, Harry, Ron and Hermione had faced those three a handful of times before, they could do it one more time. On that moment, it was more urgent to find her parents and the rest of her siblings. 

However, Ginny had to fight against a bizarre will of walking towards the bouncing ferret, drag him by his hair down the corridor onto the Great Hall and put him under the care of the Order.

Draco Malfoy was not her problem. A voice in her mind asked whose ‘Draco Malfoy’ problem was, with that expression... so lonely. She shook his head dispelling the thought.

_Enough of Draco Malfoy_ , she thought trying to concentrate on the task ahead: find her family.

As Ginny passed through the hallways, dodging green and red jets and shattered statues, she was able to contemplate properly the havoc at the castle where she lived for the past years. An intensified cloud of dust would rise every time the castle trembled due to a spell hitting somewhere far from her knowledge.

By mere chance, she ran into Luna on the first step of the stairs that led to the fourth floor and, along with her friend, a Death Eater in tow. Without time to even exchange an accomplice look with her friend to anticipate an action plan, Ginny raised her wand and cast a _levicorpus_ spell while Luna conjured thick ropes to bind the Death Eater, in a cadenced way only Luna could perform.

A stunning spell passed inches from the two of them when they left the Death Eater tied to the floor but Ginny could not see where it had come from.

“Luna, we need to find somewhere less exposed!” She yelled so her voice could overlap the sounds of the battle, pulling her friend closer.

“Maybe it’d be better if we try to get at the castle entrance.” Luna replied, as close to Ginny's tone as she could get. “There are more people there, at least.” 

They moved forward, as closer as they could get of one another. Everything was hampering their passing: the dust in the air, the poor lighting coming through the cracks in the walls, the riot and commotion. Ginny pulled up her wand to hex a Death Eater, who was dueling with two students a bit ahead of of where they stood, and only had time to hear Luna yelling _“Protego!”_ , making a spell aimed at them ricochet. Due to the impact, Ginny lost her balance, stumbling over her friend.

Both collided against the opposite wall of the corridor, which was severely damaged, allowing a view of the school grounds; Ginny tried to support her weight on it, but what remained of the structure toppled and she felt her body be thrown through the aperture. the stomach-dropping sensation characteristic of a freefall, the wind whipping her face.

_What a wonderful way to die, without even having fought anyone properly._

As suddenly as she started to fall, she was stopped in midair, feeling a thud as if her body had been abruptly stopped. Floating, she looked up at the place where she had been a few seconds ago; Luna was an example of pure concentration while waving her wand that kept Ginny in the air.

"Thank you, Luna, thank you!" She said grateful, hovering due to the Ravenclaw’s charm. Taking advantage of her privileged position for a moment, Ginny noticed more accurately the situation of the castle in the region around her: the third-floor wall, where Luna was now positioned, was almost completely destroyed; the situation on the floor below was not much different from it. Ginny was hovering right between the both floors, and was not enjoying being an easy target, floating there outside the castle.

“Ginny, I’ll get you near the wall then lift you up here and...” Luna did not finish the sentence that narrated her movements; a spell had hit her and thrown her on the floor. The Levitation Charm had broken at same time Ginny propelled herself towards the edge of the destroyed walls of the second floor. She threw herself downstairs, falling among the wreckage of the destroyed place; she saw nothing else when her head hit a large rock amidst the rubble of that corridor.

And then darkness swallowed all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know if it's worth keeping it!


	5. The Battle of Hogwarts – Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the same dynamic as the previous one, narrating the events of the Battle of Hogwarts from Ginny’s perspective (and I took some liberties here, after all, we don’t know what happens to her during this period).
> 
> This happens until the LAST sentence. From there, I feel a morbid pleasure in leaving the canon behind, sorry.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**_5 – The Battle of Hogwarts – Part II_ **

_“Rennervate!!”_

Very slowly, Ginny opened her eyes and could only be sure of one thing: she was not dead. The pain in her head, the sounds of battle fading around her and the dust that entered her lungs when she tried to breathe more deeply were a blatant testimony that she was very much alive. 

_Painfully alive._

She put her hand on the region above her nape and felt blood that was still sticky but already started to dry. The simple effort to move her arm had been enough for her to moan softly in pain and her dry throat vibrated with discomfort. She coughed trying to get used to the environment around her.

When her vision got focused again, she wondered vaguely if everything was all alright with her mental faculties and cognitive capacity: a pair of disturbingly grey eyes stared at her with barely concealed curiosity. Their owner hovered over her, half inclined as if he could ascertain she was really in proper physical condition, as Madam Pomfrey used to do with the young students sent to the Hogwarts ward.

Then he did something that Ginny's tumultuous mind did not fully understand: he held out a hand to her.

For the second time in that crazy year she was living, Draco Malfoy had extended his left arm to her, offering a hand in support so that she could rise from the ground, even though the fact he made a slightly disgusted face at his own gesture did not go unnoticed by her.

Ginny, very much due to the consequences of fainting, remained motionless, watching him carefully. He had some parts of his black robes singed and his face was smeared with soot here and there as if he had clumsily tried to wipe his face with his hands.

Ashes. 

_It suited him_ , she thought and then shook off the inopportune thought shaking her head. Given his state, Ginny wondered vaguely which part of the castle was on fire now.

Malfoy interpreted her gesture as a negative for his offer and seemed to lose the little patience that a spoiled young man like him deigned to have.

"Bloody hell, Weasley, come on!" He said waving his hand for her to hurry up. "I don’t know if you noticed but I don't have all the time in the world."

She had to ignore thousands of questions arising in her mind such as _‘why is he helping me?'_ , _'Am I still passed out and hallucinating?'_ and _'Is he going to attack me now?'_. Right now, the priority was put her ideas in order and, in this case, the more reasonable attitude she could have was to get up from the middle of the wreckage and try not to be a easy target for Death Eaters. 

_For the other Death Eaters_ , she corrected herself looking carefully at the man in front of her.

Reluctantly, Ginny accepted his offer and stood up, watching his hand more closely. It was so pale and cold! He was trembling slightly and at that moment she could confirm that his hand was really sooty, which gave more contrast to Malfoy's pale skin. 

Malfoy released her as soon as she managed to support herself on her own legs and he quickly started to wipe his hand on his robes but stopped the movement halfway when he realized he was dirty enough before he even touched her. 

She rolled her eyes exasperated.

The chaos around them diverted her attention from Draco Malfoy's prejudices and enigmas; that region had been totally destroyed and some spells could still be seen crossing the air.

"How did you find me?" she said the first thing that came to her mind while looking for the least obstructed way out of that place.

“Perhaps the more appropriate question would be: _‘how to get the hell out of here, preferably with all members intact?’_.” He shrugged and responded without losing that irritating air of disdain.

It did not go unnoticed by her that he had deliberately dodged her question.

For now, Ginny ignored it. “We need to find someone from the Order. I guess they-” she could not finish her sentence. Partly because Malfoy interrupted her; partly because she was shocked with the fact she did not question on which side Malfoy was really fighting for. 

“Do we? And I’m sure their main objective will be to protect me from any attack, right?” He said with sarcasm oozing from his words. “ _You_ need to find someone from the bloody Order of the Phoenix. I’ve done my part finding and helping you out. Now we’re even.”

When he noticed the confused expression that took place on Ginny’s face, he explained his reasoning as if he were teaching History of Magic to a troll. “You didn't interfere or got in my way an hour ago when I needed to enter the Room of Requirement to... well, to do _my business_. You gave me a try to do what I needed, at least.” He completed with a wry smile that Ginny found completely sad.

She had the distinct impression that this _business_ of his had probably caused Harry serious problems and did not control her curiosity when the words ended up coming out of her mouth.

“Is Harry all right? Ron and him were in the Room of Requirement and…”

Obviously, it had not been the right question for the occasion.

The glacial gaze he gave her, added to the remnants of dizziness caused by her fainting, made her shut up quickly in a rare circumstance. Ginny was hardly intimidated by a frown but this time she could not help it.

“Your Precious Potter is doing just fine, as far as I’m concerned. But not for long, judging by what I’m seeing here.” He made an expansive gesture with his wand pointing to the destroyed corridor "And just for the record, I couldn't care less about his well-being, regardless of what he had done for me."

Ginny's mind almost itched out of curiosity to know what Harry had done for Malfoy that demanded the Slytherin's gratitude but the question stuck in her throat when Malfoy turned his back to leave. Ginny hesitated at his change in attitude; for a moment, she thought he was going with her. She bit her lower lip doubtfully before saying anything.

“Malfoy, wait, please…” She said hesitantly.

_Please?!,_ Ginny thought bitterly but what was done, was done. What mattered was that her plea had made Malfoy pause.

He stopped halfway but remained with his back to her. A sign that at least he was willing to listen to her. 

“They can help you. Everyone can have a second chance. You just need to start again.” She tried to smile knowing in advance that she would be totally frustrated in the attempt. But she had to do something, try to _help_ him. Suddenly, the poisonous words he had used against her on the night of the ball, the years of injuries, the events of the previous year, all of that no longer mattered. 

He had helped her and they were all in the same boat now.

Trying to help Draco Malfoy seemed ... _fair._

He did not bother to turn around completely to answer her, throwing the answer over his shoulder. “I don't mingle with you and your ilk, Weasley. Both by my will and yours. Like water and oil, isn't it?”

For a bizarre moment, Ginny had the impression that he _wanted_ her to contradict him.

But then her temper got the better of her because his answer was like an unexpected punch to her gut. Rationally, it was obvious that he would say something like that but still, in the few moments before she asked him about Harry whereabouts, she had a feeling he was tempted to switch sides and something like hope welled up inside her. 

_Hope of what?_ Her own conscience scoffed at her.

“Why, Malfoy, I can’t believe you really still value things so… so _stupid_! Even after this bloody war, after everything Voldemort’s done to you and your family!” She shouted at his back when he started to move away again.

Malfoy froze right away where he was and Ginny could not say whether it was due to the pronunciation of the name ‘Voldemort’ or to her boldness in questioning his actions and beliefs. She did not care if the reason was any of the two possibilities because her well-known explosive temperament had already showed up.

“These _things_ , as you put so self-righteously, are the only ones I have left to believe in, Weasley. And it’s for my family that I _must_ believe them.” This time he did not even turn around to answer her and she could only guess what his expression would be at that moment. “I suppose you, better than anyone else, can understand the feeling.”

Her family was what mattered most to her.

And his family was what mattered most to _him_.

Ginny's legs were stuck to the ground and she could not move. She had never really stopped to think about it. Draco Malfoy, the boy who had everything but the right to make his own choices. And not for the first time, Ginny was happy to be born as a Weasley. When she came back to reality, Malfoy was already gone without further words and she could only be grateful for her family's choices.

Diverting her focus from Malfoy, her head had returned to work in a frantic pace: only now something he had said started to gain space in her subconscious: _‘You didn't interfere or got in my way an hour ago’_. Had she been out for so long? Where was Luna? And her family?

Ginny fumbled through her robes and sighed relieved when felt her wand in her pocket, still intact. Then she ran as if the Death itself was on her heels, skipping obstacles and rubbish that opposed her way to her family. She _did not_ want to think, or rather, _could not_ think about what constituted these obstacles, things lying on the ground, covered with dust and with the remains of the castle walls.

She thanked the night and the absence of natural light that partially obscured her vision. She did not want to see none of that.

The castle seemed too silent - too dead- for her taste and she felt an uncontrolled and mad dread that she would find Voldemort sitting in Professor Dumbledore's old seat and toasting his victory over the bodies of her family and friends.

More than ever, she needed to reach the stairs that gave access to the main floor, and was focused on this task but, suddenly, her attention was caught by a hand that passed lightly on her heel while she searched the entrance between the debris. 

She stopped abruptly and recognized in horror the figure of the old Divination teacher, trying to get up near a collapsed wall. Sybill Trelawney was no longer wearing her glasses and she was more frightening than ever: there was no color on her face and Ginny could not discern where exactly the Professor's hair was, covered with so much dust. But the most horrifying thing was the amount of blood that was pouring from her right leg.

Ginny quickly crouched down beside her to try to conjure some more basic healing spells, but it was totally ineffective. She had never been very good at healing and that wound was far from looking 'normal'.

“Professor Trelawney, be with me, please.” She said while frantically looked for an idea about how to reach the Potions Classroom and get Essence of Dittany but she could not even locate herself properly and with Hogwarts in that chaos it would be impossible to find something so precious. The woman opened those eyes that had been so scary through horrible glasses and Ginny got even more desperate: this time, the eyes were scared and panicked as Professor Trewlaney was trying to say something.

“It was it... The serp…” She coughed. “It was the snake.” She said at once, pointing a trembling hand to her injured leg: The Professor was stating the obvious – she was attacked by Voldemort’s snake – most likely in hope of giving Ginny some information that could help her heal the wound. In the next instant, Trewlaney was already fainting again, unable to stay awake for long.

Ginny knew she would have to take the Professor with her - there was no possibility of leaving the woman there under those conditions-, she was just calculating how much time she would waste running around the castle with a seriously injured body floating behind her. 

She sighed in resignation knowing there were no choice when she heard Luna's ethereal voice as calm as though she were in the Great Hall discussing the last Quidditch Cup over breakfast.

“She’s in a pretty bad way, isn’t she? I think we should take her to someone who can fix her.” And as if remembering the last time she saw Ginny, she added in the same tone. “Oh, Ginny. It's good to see you're okay. I'm sorry I broke the spell; a Death Eater took me down and I-”

Ginny did not let her finish the sentence: she crossed the distance to her blonde friend and hugged her as hard as she could and kissed Luna's slightly flushed face. 

“Luna, I was _so_ worried! I saw that you had been knocked down but I couldn't look for you because I hit my head when I fell and passed out. Malfoy helped me and-”

Ginny stopped speaking abruptly at the expression of her friend: Luna's big blue eyes widened even more and she put the index finger on her chin in a thoughtful attitude. 

“Oh yes, my father always said there are a lot of Devil's Snare at Malfoy Manor. He said it’s so persuasive that it’s able to change people's personality and-”

Ginny avoided rolling her eyes with some effort - talking about Draco Malfoy's constant unpredictability did not uplift her spirits at all. “Luna, Devil's Snare is persuasive because it strangles people! Besides, Malfoy's personality is what matters least now, I’m sure.” She said focusing on the battle one more time. "We need to find a way to get her to a safe place." She completed pointing to Trewlaney with her wand.

"Maybe it's a little too far to take her to the Great Hall, considering her conditions." Luna said still contemplative. “Madam Pomfrey is on the third floor taking care of the people who were injured in this part of the castle. I can take her there.”

"I’m going with you." Ginny said promptly. "The best we can do right now is stick together as much as we can."

Luna looked at her with those piercing eyes that could make a person feel bare, unable to hold any secret. "We must go where our heart is, Ginny." 

Ginny was always surprised by Luna's reasoning. It was absolutely unpredictable, not linear, and yet, loaded with insights into the subtleties of the people’s soul. She could not recognize that ability in anyone else. 

“Besides, everything seems to be calmer now.” Luna gave a reassuring squeeze in Ginny’s hand. “I'll be with you guys sooner than you think.”

Ginny nodded almost imperceptibly, hugged her friend again and turned away, ready to start running for the thousandth time that night.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX 

Her feet stopped only when she reached the door to the Great Hall, after running down corridors and jumping up the stairs. She leaned over and put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

There were many people there and Ginny prayed in silent gratitude as she recognized most of the faces among the crowd. As she approached slowly, however, her relief slowly faded from her body, piece by piece, in a crescent agony.

There were bodies in the center of the Hall.

She took hesitant steps feeling sweat running down her brow and aching muscles, desperately wishing that the group of redheads gathered near where the bodies were meant nothing. 

Each step hurt as if her body was protesting against the will imposed by her head. She did not want to walk; she did not want to know. However, every inch she left behind confirmed a certainty, each step was a stab in her heart.

She already knew.

Even with her vision partially obscured by the people assembled there, she already knew. She knew because her mother was kneeling, sobbing over someone's torso. She knew because her father remained standing, but he was terribly pale and had tears streaming uncontrollably down his face. She knew because George was looking catatonic at some fixed point on the ground as if he wanted to disappear from there, to wake up from a nightmare. As though he had lost a part of himself.

And he _really_ had.

Ginny was only able to muster the strength to demand that her body remain upright as she approached and saw Fred on the floor, as serene as she had almost never seen him, his red hair a little too long falling over his forehead and giving him an angelic look. She felt like screaming, torturing each Death Eater, killing. 

For the first time in her life, she really felt like _killing_. 

And, above all the other things she wanted at that moment, she wanted to hug Fred very tight and say how much she loved him. Say she would always love him.

Ginny waited, waited and waited a bit longer telling herself that Fred would get up laughing, brush the hair out of his eyes and say he was just taking a deserved nap. But after a while, she could not look anymore. She decided it was better giving her parents and older brother a time to rebuild themselves from a destruction that would never heal completely, she was sure of it because it was like that for her too. 

She walked away with steps that seemed to belong to someone who had taken a lot of firewhisky and, when she looked up, she saw that Percy, Bill, Ron and Hermione were close as well, but they too were sinking into their own pain.

Her eyes scanned the line of the dead, seeing more faces than she would like: Tonks, who had taught her how to find out if a door had been Imperturbed by flicking dungbombs on it - alongside her husband Lupin - and she thought about the baby they had just had, condemned to be born in a world that admitted that kind of violence. She saw Colin Creevey, her companion for morning gossip, who had so often heard about her problems and given her valuable advice. She saw many more dear faces and, suddenly, she wished she could not see anything else.

She threw herself on the nearest bench and, a few moments later, Hermione was on her side.

"Why is everything so quiet?" Ginny murmured feeling numb, staring at a spot at the Great Hall’s entrance. Under no circumstances she would speak about Fred right now.

“Voldemort gave an ultimatum. He said we had to turn Harry over to him so that everyone else would be spared.” Hermione answered mechanically.

Ginny did not seem to hear the phrase and Hermione put her arm around her friend's shoulders. This simple gesture was enough to make the redhead return to the painful reality. She rested her head on Hermione's shoulder and the two stayed like that for a long time.

And then Ginny cried. Like she had never cried before.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

What happened next seemed a little foggy most of the time and in the years to come, Ginny would have a hard time trying to remember the events accurately from that moment on.

Ginny's mind did not register anything clearly, apart from being comforted by Hermione for a long time – it had seemed her tears would never end, as well as her wish that Fred were there with her. She also remembered being dragged by Ron to the outer region of the castle where they saw Hagrid carrying Harry’s inert body. She did not think she could feel any more pain but to her despair she proved to be mistaken.

She screamed, oh yes, _that_ she had clearly done. She tried to run to his body but was stopped by hands and arms whose owners she did not recognize. And then Neville appeared defying Voldemort, the Sorting Hat also appeared after a Voldemort's wand movement and a minute later it was _burning_ over the head of a charmed Neville.

Ginny was about to scream again and aim a spell at any enemy that came into her view when the Centaurs entered the battle shooting arrows at the Death Eaters. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Neville had managed to break free from the spell and had taken Gryffindor's sword out of the Sorting Hat.

As if everything were moving more slowly, Neville propelled himself towards Voldemort's snake and, in the next moment, the disgusting animal laid decapitated on the ground thanks to a graceful movement from Neville; Voldemort looked paler - if that were possible - and then it was _his_ turn to scream.

And his scream echoed loudly causing chills in most people, like everything else that radiated from Voldemort. To Ginny's ears however, it was like a wonderful melody and she almost closed her eyes in pleasure. The sound reverberated through her and seemed to give a little more energy to her nearly exhausted body.

It was with greater clarity and focus that Ginny noticed things had gotten out of hand. And she did not think twice before drawing her wand, even in the face of her precarious physical and mental state.

She searched Harry's body desperately with her eyes but he was not there anymore and the turmoil spread like wildfire. There were duels everywhere and she had to dodge some spells. She tried to looking for him a little more but she could not afford to divert her attention from the battle. She brushed the red hair off her forehead that was already starting to stick due to sweat and ran to the castle entrance. Everyone was fighting and she let her body be driven by the adrenaline of the moment.

When she was finally able to enter the castle after dodging combatants, centaurs and bodies on the ground, she felt her right wrist - which held the wand - being pulled sharply by a masked Death Eater. Then, the coexistence with her older brothers kicked in; clenching her small white hand she aimed at the Death Eater’s head and closed her eyes, throwing a punch. 

The Death Eater staggered backwards allowing enough time for her to stun him. Her knuckles now had blood on it too but she did not even bother to clean them: it would still take many nights for her to cleanse herself of all the bad things from that battle.

Standing on her tiptoe, she spotted an unmistakable long blond hair she recognized as Luna's: she needed to check if her friend was okay. She also saw Voldemort dueling Professor McConagall, Professor Slughorn and Kingsley at the same time and she wished three Killing Curses would hit him at once.

She had never felt so happy to be able to duel, to do _something._ She cast some spells that probably did not hit the desired targets precisely but managed to pass through the Great Hall until she reached her friend, even though she had not had time to express her relief when she accomplished this.

Bellatrix had appeared in front of them out of the blue with a murderous grin on her face. Ginny never fully understand how someone managed to trivialize innocents’ lives to the point of being happy to attack them, aiming to kill. 

In any case, she was unable to reflect further on the matter when a jet of green light crossed the air towards Luna, but the Ravenclaw managed to deflect with an agility Ginny did not think she possessed. To retaliate, Ginny raised her wand and cast a Boggart-Banishing spell; she thought it was a really stupid choice but in situations of profound stress her body went on autopilot. Her movements were based only on her survival instinct - very refined after years of living beside Harry Potter.

After a moment, she realized with her peripheral vision that Hermione had arrived to help them out and then it was three against one. 

Maybe, _maybe_ , they had a shot after all.

Bellatrix seemed to be trying hard to keep up with the three younger witches, but she was still a dangerous opponent nonetheless. They formed a kind of macabre dance consisting of spins, searching for small distractions to explore, and enchantments cast - and defended - with surprising speed. 

When Ginny was about to open her mouth to say _'stupefy'_ for the tenth time, Bellatrix turned violently towards her and Ginny was _afraid_. Afraid for her life, obviously, but also scared to death because of the insanity in Lestrange’s eyes. She felt a shiver down her spine when she inevitably remembered a similar expression, albeit on a much smaller scale, she had seen in Draco Malfoy's grey eyes. 

Ginny froze as Bellatrix laughed almost scandalously, manically.

Bellatrix raised her hand and her lips moved; even though Ginny had not really heard, she could read the older witch’s lips clearly forming the words ‘ _Avada Kedavra_ ’ and turning itself in a morbid smile afterwards. It was as if someone had cast a Body Freezing spell at her.

The Killing Curse had missed her body by inches, and she had done _nothing_ to deflect it. _Git, git, a bloody git!_

Absorbed in scolding herself, she barely realized when her mother stood beside her:

"Not my daughter, you _bitch!_ " Molly practically barked addressing Bellatrix Lestrange.

And they fought viciously. In the next moment, almost everyone was leaning against the walls of the Great Hall because there were only two pair dueling. Her mother and Bellatrix Lestrange; Voldemort and… _Harry_.

Ginny rubbed her eyes. Then she touched her head searching for more blood - maybe she had had a concussion when she fell. She thought about asking someone if they were seeing the same thing as her and then gave up. Concussion or not, apparently everyone was as mesmerized as she was, for the same reason.

So, she just held her breath and waited, like everyone else there.

To the morbid satisfaction of half the wizarding world, her mother had ended Bellatrix's life with a quick and sure spell; Voldemort had screamed when it happened, as though he had been hit by a Cruciatus Curse. Ginny could not help but wonder if the surprising performance in her mother's duel was due to the pain Fred's death had caused or to something else.

Everything was happening too fast and Ginny could not say she was keeping up with all events perfectly. Harry and Voldemort faced each other, surrounding each other.

And talking, talking, talking. 

Meanwhile, Ginny's head spun, spun and spun, her breathing abnormally irregular. 

There was something in their conversation related to regret, soul and the power of a magnificent wand, whose owner was ... _Draco Malfoy_. Ginny thought she was going to pass out if all of it did not end soon, for better or worse.

She suspected the effects of the hit on her head had been delayed due to adrenaline and the spell Malfoy had used to wake her up, but now they were becoming too strong to allow her think clearly.

It seemed that the end was approaching and she leaned on Ron's arm, only at that moment realizing that her brother was at her side.  
As if everything were in slow motion, she saw Voldemort's lips utter the Killing Curse.

And Harry used the fucking ‘ _Expelliarmus’._

The spells crossed, their wands exploded at the same time as if they were less resistant than a stick, and then chaos spread like a wildfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to comment what you think about the chapter. Comments are responsible for making the author feel warm and loved, haha. It’s because of them the story moves forward.


	6. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Draco and Ginny together, but before we get to DG paradise, we need to get through HG hell first, sorry. But fear not! It's NOT a HG story and things will work out in the end! Everything in this chapter was necessary, believe me.
> 
> besides, I like to write Harry. He's a fascinating character.  
> And, above all, I like to write how Ginny is obstinate and unyielding about what she wants! Hope you enjoy!

**6 – The Beginning of the End.**

May, 1998

_Ginny was floating. And that was fantastically good!_

_She was surrounded by nothingness, in a white universe composed only of Ginny Weasley. She was free as she had not been in the past few months. Testing her position, she saw there was no friction between her and the environment; she felt her long red hair sway in the rhythm of her movements and it whipped her face when she moved a tad more sharply._

_She was dressed in her old flannel pajamas, but something inside her said it was not quite right. At that very moment, Ginny changed clothes; she now wore the dark green uniform with a golden claw on the chest from the Holyhead Harpies. Her greatest dream!_

_With that ease of movement, she could easily be a professional Chaser! She pirouetted and plunged into nothingness, then emerged spinning, with both fists pointed upwards and a wide smile on her face._

_What a mad desire she had to play Quidditch! She just needed a broom and-  
She barely thought about it and a Firebolt appeared in her right hand. She did not care she _already _was flying before, without needing the help of a broom. She climbed onto the Firebolt and accelerated until felling the wind beat her cheeks, which she knew were flushed. Whether it was caused by effort or happiness, Ginny could not tell._

_She wished the Gryffindor team were there with her, hoping they would show up instantly, just as it had happened with the broom. However, no one came; Ginny thought it was a shame because it was a very good team. They had a good Keeper and great Beaters! Her brothers were her pride and joy when the matter was Quidditch! Fred and George always managed to take down opponents in the most surprising ways possible and ..._

_Fred..._

_An empty gap formed inside her and she knew immediately that it would never be filled again. A void that threatened to swallow her whole being up._

_Thinking about her brother made everything disappear and suddenly she was in her pajamas one more time in the middle of nowhere. She needed to see Fred, needed to help him. And then a chill invaded her from within, as if she were close to a hundred Dementors. She started to fall, gravity finally acting upon her. It was as if she were sinking through an endless hole, falling indefinitely reaching nowhere._

_She saw familiar faces passing in front of her, hovering in the middle of nothingness and following her during the free fall; her family, Hermione, her companions at Hogwarts. They were all pulled out and taken away from her before she could touch them._

_Harry's image appeared as a savior and reached out to her. Ginny raised her arm to take his hand, as if her life depended on it. When she did, she felt such a cold hand; she concentrated on the hand that helped her slow down. Too pale, too soft, too_ cold. _When she raised her head, Harry's hair had turned to blond, almost silver. And the warm green eyes had turned to grey, cold orbs._

Then Ginny Weasley woke up, startled.

Her hair was stuck to her forehead due to sweat and her head hurt. She was in what appeared to be her dormitory at Hogwarts, which now had empty beds, and her mother was at her side, with puffy eyes and a countenance of someone who was in a limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Mum..." she started to say, her voice hoarse due to lack of use. "Where’s everyone?"

"Ginny, thanks to Merlin!” Startled by Ginny awakening, Molly got up quickly and leaned over her daughter in a protective, suffocating movement. “I thought I had lost you too!" 

“I'm fine, mum. At least I think I am." She said in a voice muffled by her mother's shoulder, patting Molly on the back in an attempt to calm her down. “I don't remember much about the battle... I hit my head and passed out. I don't think I was acting like myself after that.” She completed with a sad smile. Gently pushing her mother away, she repeated the question “Where’s everyone? Did we win?"

Just the fact that she was very much alive with her mother at her side was already a sign that things could have ended up well for their side of the story. However, the older witch's thoughtful expression shattered her hopes that Harry had won completely and Voldemort was finally dead.

"How much do you remember?" Molly asked sighing sadly.

"Well, I remember you kicking Bellatrix Lestrange's arse..." She blushed at her mother's stern expression due to the particular vocabulary she chose to use, but continued to recover her memories piece by piece. "I remember seeing Fred's body..." yet _that_ neither she nor her mother would like to recollect, definitely the Erumpent in the room for both of them, so she focused on the point she was not so sure about. "I remember seeing Harry's body... But he got up and fought! Mum, tell me I wasn’t hallucinating and he really didn’t die.” Ginny took her mother's hand, as if her answer depended on this little gesture.

For the first time since Ginny had woken up, Molly smiled, albeit briefly. “No, Ginny. Harry didn't die. But he didn't win either. Neither does Voldemort, it seems. The battle ended two days ago, and you have been unconscious since then, most likely because of the combination of your concussion with the excess adrenaline from the battle, which drained your body.” She was thoughtful and seemed to remember something that made her alert. “And it reminds me that you have to rest and take your Sleeping Draught."

Ginny wanted to scream that the potion could go to hell as far she was concerned. She had already slept _too_ much. In the name of Merlin, two full days! “I want to see the others! I'm fine now, mum! I don't want to stay here any longer!” She pushed aside the blankets that were piled on top of her.

Molly seemed to be tired of any struggle, even those involving her youngest daughter as an opponent. “We will have another battle soon, Ginny. Sooner that I’d like it to happen. I want, or rather, I _need_ you to be prepared for it.”

"Am I going to help this time?" Ginny asked, not hiding the hope in her voice.

“And can I avoid it somehow?” Her mother said, looking at her hands resting on her knees, getting up a moment later. “I think it's time to accept the idea that you’ve grown up, just like your brothers.” 

Ginny wanted to hug her, help her mother to ease the pain cause by the fate that had taken her child away and, consequently, a part of herself as well. But she knew it would not do any good. That morning, Molly Weasley looked older, more vulnerable, more _dead_.

Molly was already by the door and leaving the dorm when Ginny found the courage to ask. "Mum... Fred... Has he already...? I couldn't say goodbye." She said stumbling over the words, looking down to contain the tears. She was sure that if she looked directly at her mother, she would succumb to it.

"He was buried yesterday, in the afternoon." Her mother sniffed to hide her tears. "There was a very beautiful ceremony for everyone who was killed that night." Molly stopped at the door and said more to herself than to her daughter. “Percy said he died with a smile on his face. It comforts me, because that's how I remember him, since I hold him in my arms for the very first time, not sure if the newborn was him or George. And he smiled. He was born smiling and I’ll remember him like that, forever.” And her mother also smiled at the memory, before returning to the usual slightly authoritarian tone. “I'm going to get you some Strengthening Solution. You look terribly tired!” Molly said, leaving the dorm with her face half covered by her hand.

And Ginny leaned on the pillows, closing her eyes to stop crying.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

After hearing the description of that night's events, Ginny found out that when Harry and Voldemort's spells crossed in midair, both were hit at the same time and lost consciousness. Such an unexpected result of their duel made people on both sides of war not quite know how to react. So, they did what Ginny had learned that humans, whether wizards or muggles, did best: bloodshed.

Harry and Voldemort were protected by their respective allies in the middle of an incredible mess of spells and falling bodies. The Order of the Phoenix managed to kick the Death Eaters out of the castle; they were now installed in the Forbidden Forest according to information the Order was able to gather. 

Even if taking the castle meant more resource and protection to the Order, the Death Eaters also had an immeasurable advantage: They were able to leave Hogwarts grounds whenever they wanted to, while the Order and the people who fought alongside Harry were confined to the semi-destroyed castle.

What Voldemort and his army were waiting to attack was a big unknown question that no one in the castle could exactly answer. Ginny, on the other hand, did not fail to realise that this almost peaceful coexistence was ironic: they could not be closer physically and more ideologically distant.

However, for the Order, keeping Hogwarts over its domain had been the only relevant and favorable point it could be proud of; while the leaders on each side were weak and impaired, the Death Eaters were one step ahead, maintaining the _status quo_ that determined their indirect power over the other wizards.

How long this Cold War would last, no one could deduct. Nonetheless, it was clear the Ministry of Magic, the media and the Wizarding World in general were still impregnated with Voldemort and Death Eater’s influence.

Most people who fought what became known as ‘The Battle of Hogwarts’ had remained in the castle and that was also the reality for the wounded on the battlefield. The transfer for St. Mungo’s could only be provided to those whose blood status guaranteed some level of protection, which obviously did not apply to the Muggle-Born or to cases like Neville’s as they were already profoundly linked to the cause of The Boy Who Lived.

The only safe exit from Hogwarts, which gave access to the Hog’s Head Inn, had been destroyed along with the Room of Requirement and Harry was forced to reveal that there was another way out that led to the Shrieking Shack, where these injured people were taken to and, from there, to the hospital.

And so, life in the castle continued in that strange dynamic.

Ginny’s routine had consisted of taking care of the injured who had remained in the castle, like the case of Professor Trelawney. She had no improvement at all since then and was extremely weak to be transferred. Ginny kept them company or helped Professors and former students to brew potions. She often thought that the best part of being confined at Hogwarts was, at least, they would have the structure to take care of those in need. 

And, as out of place as it sounded in her head, having somewhere to call _‘home’_ made a big difference.

Was it not precisely this concept of home that had guaranteed Harry’s safety for seventeen years? She felt safer at Hogwarts and, for that, could only be grateful.

Harry, for his part, manifested is opinions with little frequency about Hogwarts, homes or any other subject. He seemed much more introspective and unwilling to deal with the help of other people. The only one concession he had made on his reserved behave was to tell the truth about Professor Snape and how he had been extremely brave in the role of double agent.

Ginny had been moved beyond words hearing the story of how the former Potions Master had sacrificed himself out of love for Harry’s mother. She sought her ex-boyfriend with her eyes, trying to comfort him somehow, even with the imposition of the physical distance between them, but once he had finished telling the events Snape's life, he had excused himself and left the place where everyone was gathered to hear him, looking extremely disturbed.

Thinking about Harry made Ginny feel a mixture of affection, anger, helplessness and resignation. He, along with Ron and Hermione, had spent the afternoons confabulating somewhere in the castle. Occasionally, Ginny could say that he was _effectively_ leaving the castle, taking advantage of his known about the Shrieking Shack exit. Nothing like an Invisibility Cloak and the fame of saviour to help him in and out freely, using the exit that was blocked and unknow for most people, so it would remain as a low-profile way out.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to have finally accepted what was on their faces since Ginny began to understand more properly the relationship between men and women. Now they were seen around in more romantic scenes. Harry, however, used to disappear for hours and did not look for anyone.

_He didn’t look for me_ , Ginny thought bitterly. And she was already getting impatient with that.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

She had made it a habit to visit the Potions Classroom in the Dungeons at Hogwarts and, under the tutelage of Horace Slughorn, she prepared potions that aided wounded recovery. It had been a week since the battle and Ginny had grown fond of the old Potions Professor, with whom she spent a good deal of time.

 _Learning_.

“Dear, observe carefully the aspect of this potion! So much talent in such a young person!” Slughorn praised her, peering at the brewing potion in Ginny's cauldron, his hand on his broad mustache. “If we had not been through such troubled periods, I would say that you have been training very hard.” 

“I guess working with potions have helped me feel a little more useful." Ginny smiled softly. Even though she had blushed slightly, she was no longer intimidated by the Professors’ presence, especially in Slughorn’s case, who always encouraged those he thought had potential. “Keeps my mind away of everything that is happening and that I have no control over. When it comes to potions, at least we can control every variable and ensure a positive result.”

"Not everyone can say that." Slughorn patted her shoulder comfortingly and pointed to her cauldron. “Try to put a little more of rotten egg. It will make the consistency be even better.” He said thoughtful. “However, do it carefully. It would not lift people's spirits if we spread that smell around the castle. I left some house-elves responsible for the unpleasant task of making them rot with the desired properties.”

“I can check if there’s more available with the house-elves, Professor. Then we can make the other potions on our list.”

The Professor nodded absently, already absorbed in the preparation of another ingredient. "Yes please. When you are back, we need to ponder about alternatives to treat Sybill’s injury. Nothing has worked so far and Madam Pomfrey is genuinely concerned about the wound’s aspect. And so am I, to be honest.”

Ginny left the room, concentrated on the amounts of ingredients that would be used in the potions and repeating her mantra composed of ‘ _two dozen of Dandelions roots, Flabbergasted leech, Goosegrass_ ’ when she heard Ron's exalted voice in the back of a supposedly empty room.

"Harry, you can’t be serious! We can't agree with that, really!” he was shouting and Ginny was suddenly alarmed. Ron could not agree with _what_ exactly? Ginny admitted inwardly that the respect for her brother’s privacy was not her priority at that moment and approached the door to hear more about what was being discussed so intensely.

“Ron’s right, Harry. These are only suppositions, hypothesis, and-” Hermione argued and there was tiredness and resignation in her voice.

“You _know_ the truth, Hermione.” Harry interrupted her; his voice much more mature than Ginny remembered. Then she realised she had barely heard his voice in the past few days. “You both know. It has to be done _now_. Before he can come close to being strong enough again to make another Horcrux.” He lowered his voice when he said the last word, as if, somehow, it was cursed. "While he’s still weak."

Ginny registered in her subconscious the weirdness of the fact that Harry really seemed to know Voldemort's condition with details.

"If only we had the Elder Wand..." Ron started to talk again, this time with a dreamy tone.

“But we don't, Ron. We’ve already discussed this a million times, since the very first day we were confined to the castle.” Hermione's tone, although resigned, did not allow for contestation.

“Looking on the bright side, if we don’t have the Elder Wand, at least he doesn’t either.” Now Ginny noticed that Harry was trying to sound optimistic.

“You should’ve seen it, Harry. It looked like the wands _attracted_ each other’s spell.” Ron had a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. “They exploded like fireworks!”

Ginny slipped down the wall and peered into the small, comfortable room. Ron and Hermione were sitting together on a tight sofa, their hands joined in a silent display of affection. Ginny felt a hint of envy at the scene, and looking away from them, visualized Harry. He was sitting in an armchair, with his elbows on his legs and his face resting comfortably in his hands. 

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, as if they were bewildered by his knowledge about the fireworks, so often used by Muggles but not by Wizards. Ginny saw her brother shrug simply.

“He happened to be there, Ron. _Holding the wand that exploded_.” Hermione continued, this time turning to Harry. “About what was the reason for that, however, we can only make assumptions. But the idea that the Elder Wand had exploded because you were her Master seems quite satisfactory to me. As if it had entered a vicious cycle: casting the Killing Curse against her Master was too much for it to bear.”

“Now you’ve talked just like Mr. Ollivander.” Ron chuckled and Hermione shot him one of her academicians looks. “Ah, come on, Hermione! It might have been a Deathly Hallow, but it was still just a wand. One I wanted to have, it's true, but just a wand.”

“Keeping arguing about what had caused the wands reacted the way they did won't do us any good. We need to act, and quickly. We already know that he’s drained and confined in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where Aragog used to live.” Harry resumed and Ginny watched Ron trembling at the name of the Acromantula that had once been friends with Hagrid. "If we draw up a consistent action plan, we can end all this nightmare with a surprise attack."

Hermione was resolute in her reasoning. “We need more time and you’re not prep-“

“Hermione, we don’t have more time. And I’m well aware of the risks I’m taking by attacking in my _conditions_ , but-” Harry broke off the moment he spotted the figure of Ginny trying to hide herself quickly behind the half-open door.

The words danced in her head: Horcruxes, Deathly Hallows, Voldemort and Harry _both_ debilitated somehow... Nothing made sense. In that brief moment of mental confusion, she had become careless and betrayed her position. 

Then she decided to maintain the minimum dignity that was allowed to such an eavesdropper person and entered the room with her head held high. She knew that her cheeks and ears had taken on a shade beyond red, but kept going like a Queen.

She stepped further into the room, her eyes fixed on Harry. Looking closely, he seemed a lot more tired. He started speaking. "Gin... You shouldn't be here. Listen- “

“I've been trying to listen to you for days, weeks. I've been trying to listen for an entire year, Harry. But for someone to listen, the other person must _talk_. And what you’ve been doing less, especially with me, is talking.”

Ginny noticed that Harry had lost his temper a little bit. 

_At least this is better than getting no reaction from him_ , she thought bitterly.

“You can't even imagine what it's been like _all_ this time, alone, except for Ron and Hermione. You know, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me, either.” He replied slightly harsh.

“That’s the problem, Harry.” Ginny said pointing an accusatory finger to him, feeling the Weasley temper emerge. “You _always_ think you have to do _everything_ by yourself, or just with Ron and Hermione. As if everything is your responsibility! Where did you get the _brilliant_ idea that your sacrifice will always be the best for everyone? At least let people decide if they want be on your side or not!”

Ron, who had learnt to never underestimate his sister tendency to irritability, decided interfere before Ginny's explosion could cause further damage. 

"Ginny’s _half_ right, Harry." He said and Ginny glared at her brother, but he swallowed hard and kept talking bravely. "It was like I told you back in the Room of Requirement that night: People can help you out, mate. And if it weren't for that help, we wouldn't have found out about Ravenclaw's Diadem.”

“I can’t drag the rest of the people to war again, not now when we’re still recovering from the effects of the last confrontation. And there’s no time to wait. If I tell them the whole truth, the Order will want to delay me.” Harry looked at Hermione searching for support. "It has to be done quickly."

“Then pick some people, take them with you.” Ginny interfered. “There have always been people willing to truly fight for you, Harry." She completed with a sad smile, involuntarily including herself in this group.

Hermione pondered over Ginny's idea. It was a satisfactory compromise, after all.

“I still don't approve the idea completely, but it sounds like a good middle-ground. We’ll have to do it with the greatest possible discretion. Only a few people will do, I believe.” Hermione said getting in her methodic mood. “Harry, recap the information with me, please: the injured Death Eaters were sent to St. Mungo’s and another sizable portion of those who were healthy had to return to their posts to ensure that the Ministry remained in Voldemort's hands. So, he has a reduced number of Death Eaters over his command here, largely due to the fact that he doesn’t expect us to attack right now. Right?"

“Yes, Hermione. We’ve already gone over these details.” Harry said half-focused, half-exasperated. Ginny guessed his reaction was due to the inevitable involvement of people other than him, Ron and Hermione. "He thinks we’re too busy mourning our dead."

“And we are.” Ginny reminded him, the image of Fred chasing her wherever she went.

"I still don't understand why they just don't go anywhere more comfortable or with more resources." Ron said searching for logic in Voldemort's decision to stay in the Forbidden Forest.

Ginny rolled her eyes impatiently. “Ron, as long as they are in the Forbidden Forest, the exits from the castle will be closed to us – at least the ones they know about. We are stranded here and if it weren't for the house-elves’ help, we’d already be in real trouble getting food, since we can’t overexpose the exit from Shrieking Shack. Or did you forget we can't just _produce_ food out of thin air?”

“One of the exceptions to the Gamp's Law of Transfiguration." Ron said and glanced sideways at his girlfriend, repeating the speech he knew would impress Hermione.

Although Hermione smiled proudly at him, she still talked using her lecture tone. "Yes, we have food thanks to the house-elves, individuals the wizards have considered irrelevant for so long, paying a high price for it."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the chair and Ginny assumed he was thinking about Sirius and his elf Kreacher. Ron, for his part, did not seem very moved by the house-elves' misfortunes. He took something like a silver cigarette lighter out of his pocket and began to pass it from hand to hand absently. Ginny made a mental note to ask her brother about what it was, later. 

Taking her friends’ silence as an underlying support for the house-elves' cause, Hermione then addressed Harry. "And do we have the names of those who often are guarding Voldemort?"

"I think this is the kind of information we can get without much trouble." He seemed calm and too much at ease for Ginny's taste.

There were countless questions in her head. What were horcruxes? What were Deathly Hallows? Why did they have to attack now? But the one that got out of her mouth first was:

"How the bloody hell do you get all this information from?" she asked, addressing Harry.

"That's a long story, Ginny. One for another time." Harry said wearily, standing up “When we finish choosing and recruiting others, we’ll inform everybody whatever is necessary.” He walked past her and left the room, not looking back at his former girlfriend or at his friends.

Confused, Ginny looked at Hermione and her friend just shrugged, not sure about what to say. Ginny realised that she had lost that battle.

But not the war.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Thanks to Harry's persistent reluctance, it took them longer than expected to recruit the people who were supposed to compose the group for that little foray against the Death Eaters.

Everything was done with absolute secrecy and with Hermione's help, they adopted the morally dubious policy of using the Memory Charm on those who were too reticent about the plan. They had to use this particular artifice on Cho and Justin; besides, they had to avoid Luna as much as they could, since she was not the best at _‘being discreet about the plan’_. Any plan.

In the end, they came very close to what had been Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts: Harry, George and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Angelina Johnson, Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan, also including Percy and Charlie Weasley. 

And Ginny, of course.

When Harry noticed that she had joined the group for the first planning meeting, he frowned. 

“No, Ginny. You’ll stay. Someone has to, in case things... well, in case we can't make it.”

"No way! I'm going and that’s final. And there’s nothing any of you can do to stop me.” She put her hands on her hips, in her best imitation of Molly Weasley. The gesture did the trick; Ron cringed slightly at her tone and Percy adjusted his glasses nervously.

“I think-“ Hermione tried to say.

“And don't you dare use that Memory Charm on me, Hermione! I’ve left explanatory notes for myself everywhere I have access.” She said triumphantly, looking threateningly at her friend.

Hermione raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, then Charlie approached Ginny and hugged her, resting his strong arms, scarred by burns, around her. He gave a light kiss on the top of her head; Charlie was her shorter brother and yet he was considerably bigger than her. 

He whispered in her ear. "You know what would mean for Mom to lose another child, don't you?"

She nodded sadly, resting her head on his shoulder. Even if she knew that one more loss would be devastating for their mother, continuing to excuse herself from the battle front was not _correct_ , not when everyone else sacrificed themselves in hopes of ending that bloody war.

The Weasley could not be selfish to preserve themselves, not when no one else had that luxury.

And then her brother said to everybody else. "I’ll stay here. There’s nothing we can do for this brat to change her mind. She's a Weasley after all.” He sighed, hugging her one more time. "And besides, someone older needs to take responsibility for knowing about this plan of yours and still allowing you to go ahead with it."

Harry and Charlie exchanged a look of silent understanding. Ginny knew that Charlie was putting himself in a position of sacrifice as much as the others. Maybe even a little more: if something went wrong, he would have to live the rest of his life with looks of reproach and silent recrimination. And he would have to carry the weight of all the lives that could be taken that night.

Still, Harry did not seem so sure. He decided to address Ginny one more time as the last resource to convince her. "Ginny, you're still underage and-"

"Stop this nonsense already, Harry Potter." Ginny gently detached herself from Charlie’s arms. “I'm going to be seventeen in two months! And you’ve faced these things since your first year at Hogwarts! I have faced things like this since my first year.” Suddenly, she remembered Tom Riddle's diary and lowered her voice, controlling herself “If you insist on trying to stop me, I swear I'll go to Mom and Kingsley and I’ll tell them _everything_.”

On spur of moment, she remembered Blaise and his speeches about how people's private interests should be above the collective ones. She put on her face the best imitation of a Slytherin expression and raised her head, daring anyone there to try to stop her.

"Bloody hell! Where did she learn to blackmail like that to get what she wants?” Ron exclaimed, glaring accusingly at George, who just shrugged and tried to smile innocently. Despite the good-natured gesture, Ginny noticed that he was much quieter lately and felt her heart clench painfully against her chest. George's pain was one she knew too well.

“We can't afford wasting any more time, Harry. You recruited us with a promise of answers and action. Here we are, to hear it.” Percy said and Ginny thanked him for the subject change. Percy had become good at cutting the red tape, as incredible as it seemed to her.

And then, with a resigned sigh of someone who could no longer postpone that conversation, Harry had begun his speech about Horcruxes, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, Nagini, his own role in that story. He told them about how weak Voldemort was, with only a seventh of his soul, and how it was necessary to attack before he succeeded in making a new Horcrux, because if he did, he would hide it in a place they could never find. When he finished, all eyes, except his own and Ron and Hermione's, were wide with terror and sorrow.

How was it possible for someone to reach such limits of Magic, to bend it as he wishes? It was grand, for sure, but at the same time very small and petty.

"So, this is what you were doing...” Dean spoke thoughtfully. “I thought you were hiding..." 

"Did you think we were on vacation in the Caribbean, by any chance?" Ron said poisonously, before changing the course of the conversation. "Okay, does everyone agree then?"

Everyone nodded silently and Hermione took the floor. "Right, so we're going to have to detail exactly how it's going to happen..."

And so they spent the following afternoons, confined to the Hufflepuff Common Room - the only one apart from the Slytherin Dungeon that was empty-, outlining a plan that, in essence, was extremely simple: catch Voldemort off guard, take out of combat as many Death Eaters as possible and remove from Hogwarts those who wanted or needed to be removed.

_Everything is very simple in theory_. This idea kept hammering Ginny's head violently.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Even that late at night, Ginny had known Harry would be there beforehand, reviewing the details of the plan, sketching carelessly on sheets scattered over the tables in the Hufflepuff Common Room. The group had spent most days there, Harry even more than everyone else, their absences camouflaged by the constant agitation of the castle.

Ginny approached slowly, with her characteristic catlike movements. The next day was the chosen one for the attack and she had been unable to sleep thinking about everything that was to come; the rising tension, the discretion required for the plan, the constant mourning for those who were gone, all of it was suffocating her. She needs a break and so did Harry.

She had called it a night earlier, even before dinner, on the pretext of having to get up very early the next day to take care of the potions. That was a half-truth: as a matter of fact, she would be up early since they would have to leave before dawn, so that the night would protect them from the Death Eaters’ sight.

The fireplace decorated with the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff was lit, making the room even more cozy. It did not take long for her vision to adjust to the dimness of the room and find the object of her search.

Harry was sitting behind a desk in a corner of the Common Room, his forehead on the polished wooden table, as if he wanted to merge himself with the surface. His sweater had been discarded over the furniture, revealing the faded t-shirt he was using. His fingers were flexed, tense over his lap, as if he could squeeze Voldemort's neck with them, with bare hands.

On the table beside him, Ginny spotted the wand he had been using since his former one had exploded at the Battle of Hogwarts; this new wand, a new symbol, had belonged to Colin Creevey, his friend. Her heart sank, but she shook the feeling off with conviction. She did not need that kind of perception right now.

"Hem, hem…" Ginny gave one little throat-clearing cough, in her best interpretation of Dolores Umbridge. Harry lifted his head and smiled, admiring Ginny's talent for impersonating others’ mannerisms. For the first time in days, he had smiled. For one moment, he had returned to being the Harry of those afternoons both of them had spent together in that same castle, centuries ago.

“How did you know I’d be here?” He asked, a hint of smiled still hovering his face.

“An educated guess, I suppose. It was the only place a guy who wants to save the wizarding world could be.” She said friendly. “All our plans are here, aren't they?"

He understood her joke as a criticism; he got up and started packing his things awkwardly. It seemed that Harry had spent so much time waiting - and fearing – others’ judgement, that he had lost some of his ability to understand jokes when he came across a pretty obvious one.

Ginny resumed talking, as if she had not noticed the slightly hostile reaction on his part. “You know, I think Hermione’s right. Sometimes, you and Ron forget you’re wizards.” She said wittily and begun to help him arranging papers and notes in piles with gentle movements of her wand. 

There were some objects on the table too: a photo of him when he was a baby that made her smile, an object that looked like a locket, the remains of his old wand. There were also a few vials, which contained a substance that was neither liquid nor gaseous, somewhat bluish in color. 

She had already seen something like this somewhere. 

Ginny frowned, trying to remember exactly where she had seen it, but her mind changed direction quickly when she saw another familiar object on the table: Harry still kept the piece of the broken Two-way mirror he had received from his godfather.

“Why do you keep that?” She questioned him, pointing at the object.

"I don't know... Maybe for good luck." He shrugged, absently organizing a stack of paper on the side of the table. "Or perhaps to remind myself that I’m not alone."

Ginny realised that Harry would never get rid of what was left of Sirius Black's gift, but because of the wrong reasons.

“Hey, look at me.” She stood facing him, coming comfortably between Harry and the table. Over the years, Ginny had definitely become more uninhibited towards boys, much to the chagrin of her brothers. “You have Ron and Hermione. You have _me_ …”

Harry had realised the intimacy of their position and adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. He tried to ease the tension a little bit by looking away from her and maintaining a mild tone in the conversation.

“All the things that are important to me are in this Mokeskin pouch Hagrid gave me.” He pointed to a small bag on the table, starting to put into it the objects that were scattered, and trying to dodge Ginny in the process. “Hermione taught me the Extension Charm and now I can put almost everything I want here. You wouldn’t believe the things you can carry around with a thing like that.”

“Uhhh, all the secrets of the mysterious Harry Potter in a little bag, within arm's reach? May I have it?” She said holding out her hand to emphasize her request. He laughed and she moved a little closer to his body.

"In fact, you may." He said after thinking for a moment and holding out the small object to her. Ginny was surprised by his reaction, but accepted the object without saying anything. “Tomorrow when we get back, you can give me back. I'll hold you to that." He smiled and she got a fluttery sensation in her stomach. “Until then, I think we better go to sleep. We have to be well rested to-”

"Harry, stop." She cut him off abruptly. She definitely did not want to start with the ‘ _this might be our last night together’_ speech, but something about her tone made him grasp the overall idea.

“Gin, I-“ He said hesitantly, trying to find the words that would express what he was feeling. “I can’t. Not until this is over. There’s so much going on, I-”

“I’m not asking you to marry me tonight, Harry.” She touched his face gently. He closed his eyes and leaned over to hug her, persuaded; he had grown quite a lot since the last time they were so close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. His smell was very good, it reminded her of childhood, protection, affection.

“There’s something you need to know, Ginny. I omitted it from the rest of the group because I don’t want them to lose their hope. Somehow, they seem to focus the hope of victory on me.” Harry said in a sad voice that broke her heart. “And I have nothing more to offer other than my image as The Boy Who Lived.”

"You have much more to offer than just a symbol of hope, Harry."

He shook his head. "I’ve lost my connection to Voldemort's mind, I don't have the Elder Wand, I'm not a Horcrux anymore..." He stopped talking and Ginny waited patiently for him to start over. “It’s not only Voldemort who has a weakened soul, I share the same consequence as him. He has divided his soul seven times and it undermined him. Mine, on the other hand, is also broken because I lost the piece of Voldemort that was inside me for all my life and, in a way, was part of what I am.”

“How are you so sure about it?” Ginny asked, more startled than curious.

"Hermione has a theory." It was the simple and objective answer given by him. “She’s been working hard for the past few days on this, though we don’t have anything documented in the Library about it. Dumbledore once told me that Voldemort and I had crossed any magical line that links two wizards, beyond the knowledge available today. So, all we can make is theory and we have to agree that Hermione’s pretty good at that.” He smirked, before getting more serious again. "I don't know what might happen to me when I'm in the middle of battle, without the Elder Wand to protect me and with a weakened soul."

“Why are you telling me all of this right now?” She asked a new question, her voice growing weaker and weaker. "After all this time in silence."

“Because I thought you had the right to know. The right to going to the battle knowing I’m nothing but a symbol and that symbols can be broken...” He whispered looking down. “I’ve missed you so much, Gin. I thought about you all the time, even when-”

The confession was enough to make her briefly forget all the implications of his revelations. The insistent feeling of disappointment at the lack of trust in her that he showed again and again was ignored in the back of her mind. She did not need that feeling right now.

"Shhh." She said, putting her index finger over his lips gently. "Harry, forget everything, just for tonight. I had patience, I gave you the space you wanted, I walked away. But not tonight. I want to fight tomorrow with the memory of this night in my mind.”

The green of his eyes shone with what she knew was a barely contained passion. She was not afraid of the imminent beginning of this new stage in their lives, the promise of intimacy, of exploration between them. With Harry, she would _always_ be protected. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her. When he finally did, Ginny responded with all the nostalgia she had felt for the past year.

He scooped her up, as newlywed husbands did with their wives on their honeymoon, and headed for the Hufflepuff Dormitories.

Ginny smiled.

If his soul was incomplete, she was more than willing to give up part of hers to make him whole again.

That night, they would be one.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

In the hours that followed, Ginny slept soundly, as she had not in days. And for the first time in that period she had spent at Hogwarts, she did not dream of a very pale hand pulling hers and with greyish eyes watching her.

She did not dream of Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't hate me! It was really needed, haha. And dont forget to comment what you think about the chapter. Comments are incredible gifts to the authors.  
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

**7 – Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures.**

_  
End of May, 1998   
_

The old Astronomy Tower had been the chosen meeting point for the group.

It was symbolic and ideal: After Dumbledore's death, the place was no longer frequented, nor had it been rebuilt; the walls and structure still held the marks of the battle that caused a twist in the wizarding world. Marks of death and destruction.

Everyone in the small group was hooded, as if the simple act of hiding their faces was enough to make their internal emotions easier to control. When Ginny climbed the last flight of stairs that led to the Tower, following Harry's footsteps, all the volunteers were already there. As Harry murmured greetings to everyone, Ginny noticed a taller, angrier, figure approaching her.

"Where did you spend the night?" Ron practically hissed. "Percy and I were looking for you last night and your bed was empty. If we didn't have to save the bloody world the next day, I’d have sought mom out. She would have found you quickly."

“I bet this simple visit at dawn meant nothing." Ginny retorted in a sarcastic tone, as quietly as she could. "Ah yes, if we don't consider that you gits had intended to use any _dirty trick_ to make me stay in the castle." 

It had crossed her mind more than once that one of the brothers (or all of them, together) would try to do something to stop her from going.

"Er, well ..." Ron faltered and Ginny was sure the tip of his ears had gone red with embarrassment under his hood. “It doesn't matter now. Anyway, we’re going to have a _serious_ talk when we come back to the castle.”

She already had a naughty answer on the tip of her tongue when she realised that Ron had such a blind faith in their victory – and in Harry - that he had used the same tone he would use when saying _'let's talk after we come back from shopping at Diagon Alley'_. She inevitably felt a wave of optimism and tenderness towards her brother.

Without resisting the impulse, she did something that completely defused Ron's jealousy: she stood up on her tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, whispering in his ear. “I love you so much, Ron. Never forget this."

She released him after a few seconds and Ron stood there, as if Voldemort himself had come in person to say he loved him, instead of his younger sister.

Ginny was unable to observe Ron's reaction any longer because in the next moment Harry raised his voice so that everyone could hear him out. He went over the plan that had become more or less a mantra in her head:

"Voldemort is being guarded by four Death Eaters tonight: Mulciber, Rowle, Rockwood and Selwyn, with six more of them making the rounds to ensure we’re kept unable to leave Hogwarts with our wounded people," He paused and Ginny once again felt an uneasiness about the reliability of his information, which no one, except Harry himself, knew where it had come from. “When forty minutes have passed after we leave, Charlie’s going to begin the removal of the injured people and also of those who want to leave the castle. It’s on him to tell the Order and the others about what we’re going to do and what Ron, Hermione and I have been doing for the past year.”

“You can count on me.” Charlie said and Ginny noticed her brother nodding under his hood.

“About the rest of us, the most important thing is that our action catches them off guard, to the point of avoiding those on guard from calling other Death Eaters. Any attempt of them in this direction must be _absolutely_ prevented. I’m quite sure if we get to Voldemort, he’s not going to lower himself and ask for help, even though he’s weaker.”

“Arrogant wanker.” Ron muttered angrily.

“That is why we’re going to split into groups, to deal with Death Eaters separately. Ron, Hermione, Neville and me will try to get to Voldemort, without dwelling too much on the other Death Eaters. This is your job.” Harry pointed to the rest of the group. "George and Angelina, Dean and Lee, Percy and Ginny." To her ears, it seemed he had said her name against his will, but she could not care less. "Remember, we have a list with the Death Eaters’ names, we only finish our mission once we’ve dealt with all of them."

After he finished, silence washed over everyone; nothing was heard but the sound of the wind hitting the rubble of the Astronomy Tower. Ginny was already beginning to feel suffocated by the silence when Hermione spoke up, in a gentle tone that Ginny hardly saw her friend use.

"Harry, you know just a Disarming Charm won't be enough anymore, don’t you?"

" _I know_." Harry said through clenched teeth and then repeated it in a slightly lower tone, more to himself than to others. "I know." 

"So, everyone is ready?" Charlie took charge of the situation. Once everyone nodded their consent, he conjured up five brooms, which appeared in line in front of him. “I think it’s better if you travel in pairs as well; it’ll get less attention. I’m going to count down the time from the moment you all take off.” Then he addressed his four siblings, gathered in a corner of the Tower. “If anything happens to any of you, I swear I’m going to make snacks for Dragons with the tosser responsible for hurting you. So be careful: I’d hate if my Dragons had an indigestion.” Saying that, he hugged each one of them, taking a little longer with George. "I hope seeing you in a few hours."

Without another word, each pair mounted on its broom. 

In an act of rare admission of inability to perform any task, Percy offered Ginny the broom’s command. 

“The purpose of the plan is, at least, to make it to the Forbidden Forest alive.” He said fixing his glasses that insisted on sliding down his long nose when she eyed him quizzically. “This is probably not going to happen if I fly the broom.” 

She smiled at her brother and mounted on the broom. Percy followed suit, holding tight to her waist. With a silent signal from Harry, everyone took off towards the eastern part of the Hogwarts’ grounds.

And it was wonderful to feel the wind against her face; she was invaded by a crazy urge to pirouette and refrained a smile when she imagined the frown Percy would make if she did that. She shook her head and decided it was more prudent to get serious and focus on the mission. Using her peripheral vision, she noticed that the brooms had taken distance from each other, as they had previously agreed.

After a few minutes of flight, they were already entering the vicinity of the Forest; Dean and Lee went down first, quickly losing altitude and dodging branches. Ginny silently wished her ex-boyfriend and friend good luck. In the sequence, George and Angelina started to land; she had her head and arms very close to George's body, her eyes closed as if she were saying a prayer.

Now Ginny knew it was her turn, but she could not resist the urge to move closer to Harry's broom, positioning her broom so that it was side by side with him and Neville. She simply stared into those green eyes in an intimate way of saying goodbye. A look which kept a world of promises that started with the phrase ‘ _When we get back…_ ’.

She smiled at Harry and waved to Neville. He felt Percy press her waist as if saying ‘ _what the bloody hell are you waiting_?’ And then they dove into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

They landed as quietly as possible and with a flick of his wand, Percy made the broom disappear.

As Percy took the lead in a protective way, they walked for a few meters. They knew that, just like them, the Death Eaters patrolled in pairs, sometimes the perimeter of the castle to make sure the giants continued to block the exit to Hogsmeade, and sometimes around the Forbidden Forest, to ensure the safety of their master.

Ginny could feel her robe dragging behind her over the wet forest grass, in a muffled noise. She was tense from head to toe, startling at the sound of everything, from the wind hitting the trees to the little owls that chirped unexpectedly. She followed Percy's footsteps, as if stepping on the footprints left by him in the soft grass could ease the already small disturbance they generated in the forest.

It was difficult to walk away from the trails, but if they did it differently, they would end up being easy targets. Ginny wished the Centaurs were there, however, according to Harry's mysterious source of information, after their decision to join Harry's side at the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort had no mercy and the Centaurs were also unable to return to their colony in the Forest, otherwise they would die horribly.

Her musings were interrupted when Percy came to a sudden stop in front of her, causing her to bump into his back. He turned and made a sign of silence, placing his index finger over his lips. There were two people, near the trail, approaching them on the right.

“I told you, Nott. We should go into the castle and get over with it, once and for all.” Said a voice becoming clearer and clearer, much to Ginny's discomfort. From the tone of the voice, she suspected they would be very close now.

“It's not like we're overflowing with strength, Crabbe. And everyone knows you just want to come into the castle to seek revenge for your son.” Ginny felt an incredible tone of malice overlap in the voice of whom was supposedly Nott. “Besides, from what Goyle's son told us, it was something he brought it on himself. He wasn’t worthy of being a Death Eater, failing to control a curse like that-”

Ginny would never know if her brother's reaction was due to the Death Eater’s arrogance about their own abilities or to the profound lack of respect for the death of someone's son, since Fred’s death was so recent. 

The point was that Crabbe's father could not even answer his colleague’s insults, because Percy jumped faster than Ginny supposed he could and, in a flick of his wand, he had stunned one Death Eater.

She ran towards Percy, trying to hide her silhouette behind the numerous trees and positioned herself close to where her brother was.

Percy was already dueling with a large Death Eater, his arms out of proportion to his body.

 _Crabbe’s dad_ , Ginny thought searching for an opening to attack. The Death Eater attacked with surprising voracity given his size and Percy had some difficulty in countering his spells.

Ginny had her wand up, trying to aim at the Death Eater, but both Percy and him moved too fast to be safe throwing any hexes.

A hex passed very close to him and, after protecting himself behind a tree, Percy screamed. "Ginny, go!" He quickly came out from hiding behind the tree to cast a spell and then used the trunk as a shield once again. “We have to disable as many Death Eaters as possible! I'll see you as soon as I'm done with this one.” She hesitated a little longer, aimed her wand at the Death Eater one more time, but her brother shouted again. "For Merlin’s sake, go!"

Persuaded, Ginny ran in search of new targets. Percy was right, they should try to shoot down as many Death Eater as possible before their attack was boasted. She slowed her steps as soon as the adrenaline allowed her to reason properly; she would be an easier mark if she kept making more noise than a Howler.

She walked for a few more minutes, hoping that Percy could follow her trail. The Forbidden Forest was extremely dense; the trees’ branches hit her face and she was sure her cheeks would be painfully cut the next day.

 _If there were the next day_ , she thought bitterly.

She spotted a small clearing that could serve as a meeting place for Percy and her; also, it possibly was a good spot to set traps for Death Eaters. After some time of observation, Ginny thought she could approach the place if she was very cautious.

She was still protected by the shadows of the trees when she peered into the small place where the moonlight shone most strongly.

It looked abandoned.

Ginny took a deep breath preparing to expose her position when she felt the tip of a wand against the back of her neck.

_Fuck!_

"Get down and put your wand on the ground, where I can see it." 

The familiarity of the voice registered by her subconscious was drowned out by her growing fear. She did as she was told; any reaction other than that would mean her death sentence, she was sure of it.

"Now get up and walk slowly."

She headed towards the spot open in the forest, feeling relief when she realised the wand aimed at her was farther from her neck. She guessed this small comfort was due to the fact that the Death Eater had bent down to pick up the wand she had left on the ground.

Ginny stepped into the small clearing, wondering if this was the place where she would die. She decided then she would face whatever was going to happen head-on.

She turned around bravely, with conviction they would never see her falter before she succumbed. Once her eyes met the ones of the black-clad figure in front of her, her stomach contracted instantly.

Draco Malfoy was standing a few feet in front of her, pointing his own wand at Ginny's head and holding hers in his other hand, sporting a mocking smirk on his face. 

Unconsciously, she lowered the hood that covered her head; with the movement, her long red hair fell like a waterfall down her back.

" _You…_ " Malfoy murmured just as the unpleasant smile disappeared from his mouth. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ginny was impassive, not sure how to react. Malfoy had, in a way, protected her at the Battle of Hogwarts and now they were there, clearly on opposite sides. She noticed he had lowered his wand slightly and all the conflicting feelings she had felt at Hogwarts about him struck her like lightning.

"Malfoy, listen..." She started talking, wringing her hands, all the confidence from previous minutes draining out of her body. 

How to say coherently that her group needed to neutralize all Death Eaters there, kill Voldemort and destroy Malfoy’s side of the war, but he could come with her if he wanted to? Ah, all this without sounding like a complete lunatic.

 _You’re not batting on a full wicket, Ginny_. She thought to herself.

If someone asked the reason for her behavior, Ginny would have a thousand rehearsed explanations, such as ' _he could’ve killed Dumbledore, but he haven't', 'he could’ve let me unconscious and exposed at Hogwarts, but he haven’t'_ and _'everyone deserves a second chance'_. 

But all of this reasoning did not fully represent the truth; she simply wanted to help him, get that maddening sadness out of his eyes...

Nobody deserved to go through all of that and neither did he. He was just a teenager thrown in the middle of it all, as victimized as Ron, Harry and her.

Taking a deep breath, she took the courage to talk again. "This is going to come to an end today, regardless of what you and I do now. Voldemort is weak and debilitated... You can just turn your back to him and seek Order's help, try to protect yourself." It was all she had managed to say.

Malfoy remained silent for an instant, before answering coldly. “And do you suppose your _flawless_ friends would accept me?" The question was masked by a mocking tone, but Ginny just knew that behind his words a spark of hope had shone.

“They will, even if I have to force each one of them-“

She did not have time to organise her thoughts to finish the sentence that had come out as a revelation even to herself.

Malfoy got tensed one more time. He was staring somewhere over her shoulder and when she turned her neck to look, she noticed her brother approaching them.

Ginny assumed Draco was out of Percy's sight, since once he stood a few feet from Ginny, her brother started talking naturally, still panting and adjusting his glasses.

“Merlin's beard! That troglodyte gave me more trouble than I thought he would! But now the two gits are tied up and totally out of touch.” He said with a pompous smile. 

When Percy realised his sister had not returned his gesture and was still tense, he froze in place. 

It was the only thing he had time to do: out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco Malfoy raising his wand towards Percy and it all happened at the same time:

Ginny shouted a resounding "No!" fearing the possibility of losing another brother, Draco Malfoy cast a non-verbal spell and Percy fell limp on the floor.

A second passed before she had the courage to have any reaction. Her mind was registering all information frantically.

_Red light, not a green one. Red light, not a green one._

Malfoy had chosen to stun her brother, not to kill him.

Ginny suddenly felt her eyes water in relief; she wanted to run to Percy and check if everything was okay with him but her feet were stuck to the ground. 

For a moment, Malfoy hesitated briefly but then put the mask of indifference back on his face that Ginny, strangely aware of the idea, was getting used to paying attention to. 

She was so absorbed in his confusing persona that she did not notice the presence of another one, a little taller and more sinister, approaching the pair with resolute strides.

Lucius Malfoy had also found his son.

"Now, now, Draco! I leave you alone just for a minute and see what you find out. What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Draco answered simply and Lucius nodded absently. “I was patrolling the area and I came across them.”

“Isn't she the Weasley girl who caused me some minor problems at the Ministry?" Lucius approached her slowly and Ginny's first impulse was to run away, but she remembered Percy, lying on the ground next to her. When Lucius eyed Percy unconscious body, he smirked and Ginny realised she would not have left her brother for the life of her. 

Lucius stood by her side and lifted a rebellious lock of ginger hair, which had fallen on her forehead. He did not carry a wand as far as she could tell, but he was an imposing figure nonetheless, much taller than she was. "Do you know what that adventure of yours meant to me and my family?"

Ginny did not hesitate. "Probably the same thing _your_ past actions meant for me and my family.” 

_Here, girl — take your book — it's the best your father can give you._

Ginny tried to be in control of the situation, but remembering the day this man gave her Tom Riddle's Diary always had destabilized her on some level.

Looking for some hope, Ginny glanced at the younger Malfoy, but the boy remained unmoved, standing in the same place, like a bloody statue. When he noticed Ginny's gaze on him, he showed a glimpse of what might be doubt. But it was short lived: soon the indifferent expression returned to his face. Then Ginny turned her eyes to Lucius Malfoy one more time; even if she could not have help from Draco, at least she would not show her fear, no matter what.

“Perhaps it’s true.” Lucius’s cynical smile was terrifying. “Given this bad blood between our families, maybe we could settle some old scores. Like yours, my wand was taken away from me. So, I propose a fair combat between the two of us, girl: we shall rely only on our hands and on our most primitive instincts. I assume that you, as a vile Muggle-lover, will appreciate my offer.”

For the first time, Draco sounded concerned. “Father, I don’t think it’s the wisest course- “

“Be quiet, Draco.” Lucius interrupted his only son icily. “I’m tired of those meddlesome fools always getting in our way.”

“So am I.” Draco insisted. “But she’s just a girl.”

Lucius made a condescending sound. "Draco, one of the many things your mother has taught me is that we must _never_ underestimate a woman."

“I don’t.” Draco replied firmly. “I just don't think she’ll cause us any problem. You don't have to - you don't have to kill her.”

"Kill her? What kind of barbarian do you think I am?" Lucius asked without taking his eyes off Ginny. “I’m not an idiot to kill the girl when I can take her to the Dark Lord and regain some of our prestige, son. But that does not mean I do not earnestly wish to wipe every Weasley off the face of the earth. Or hurt them as much as they hurt us.”

“Think, Father.” 

“Very well, Draco. You do have a point.” Lucius conceded sighing sadly. “I taught you well; it’s not wise allow our petty sentiments overpower our mind. Our family is the most important thing.”

“Yes.” Draco agreed seeming relieved.

“Shall we go, Miss Weasley?” Lucius held her tightly by the arm.

“Never!” Ginny had remained silent during that weird conversation, but only because she had been surprised enough by Draco's defense. But not in a million of years would she behave sweetly while being taken to Voldemort.

Then taking Lucius by surprise and changing strategy, she had squirmed to bite his arm in an attempt to break free.

"You filthy little beast!" Lucius howled but did not let go of her.

Ginny felt her arms being crush terribly by relentless hands: he was shaking her like a rag doll. She screamed for help and tried to kick him, but he dodged her kick with relative dexterity. 

She clenched her teeth when he pulled one hand away from her, knowing it would not be a relief in any way. Her guess proved true when she felt a strong slap on the right side of her face. The movement made her fall to the ground abruptly, feeling the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She looked up, trying to put some challenge in her eyes, even if it meant nothing to Lucius Malfoy.

Rubbing the spot where she had bitten, Lucius seemed amused by her attempt to be brave. He laughed patronizingly and got her off the ground, pulling her by the arm as if she weighed almost nothing. He held her by the throat, placing both thumbs at the level of her tonsils and applying an almost unbearable pressure, squeezing her neck.

"You don't have to be conscious to be taken to the Dark Lord!"

“Father, it’s quite enough!” Draco was saying but Ginny could not discern his words anymore.

She was running out of breath now and her world was slowly getting darker and darker; as if seeing the scene from afar, she noticed the wind swinging the leaves of the trees, the big moon in the sky and the face in front of her, so pale, so distorted by anger, so evil.

Already on the threshold between consciousness and unconsciousness, Ginny decided she did not want that to be the last image she would see. She then glanced at the younger Malfoy, who was looking at the scene with visible apprehension, not knowing what to do.

In the state of those whose actions are permeated by the lack of logical reasoning, she almost calmed down when she noticed he was hesitating before the scene. Would he interrupt? It was her last thought with a minimum of coherence, until the world started to plunge into a dense fog and…

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

Similar to a black hole that sucked everything around it, Ginny's lungs absorbed as much air as it could, causing her a terrible pain. She found herself on her knees on the ground, trying to _breath_ , and her eyes quickly registered the scene before her.

Neville Longbottom had his wand aimed at the point where Lucius Malfoy had been moments before, carrying an expression that mixed awe, determination and fear on his face.

Draco, completely in shock, looked from the Gryffindor boy to his father's body, lying dead on the ground next to Percy's unconscious form, and then to Neville again, seeming not to believe in what he was seeing. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, there were no more signs of the snobbish and indifferent young man; there was only pure hatred.

“You daft bastard! What have you _done_?!" He was already raising his wand towards Neville. Ginny tried to scream, but the extreme pain in her throat prevented her from making any louder sounds than hoarse murmurs.

The two young men began to duel and Ginny knew that Neville would not last long against Malfoy, whose skills seemed enhanced by his hatred. Her friend dodged the spells with some difficulty and Draco moved forward and forward, as if he wanted nothing more than to cast the final – and probably mortal- hex with his wand stuck in Neville's throat. "You bloody arse!" 

Each spell was permeated with a different offense from Malfoy. He never shouted and that icy fury was more frightening than any outburst.

With some difficulty, Ginny stood up with the intention of interfering in any way possible, but stopped short when she noticed Malfoy had tears in his eyes. In that moment she realised Draco Malfoy was _doomed_ , lost forever to the Order, to her side of the story. And that was an inexplicably painful and bitter epiphany.

The irony was not lost on her: Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater, had chosen not to kill Percy, while Neville, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had made the opposite choice regarding Lucius Malfoy.

 _I can't stand here thinking about what has already happened, it's no good crying over spilt potion,_ she thought, desperation already taking over her. _Neville’s not going to resist much longer -_

Like a balm to cure her inertia, Harry had appeared been behind Draco Malfoy's back, looking out of breath and tired. He raised his wand and very quietly, as if he felt a profound sorrow, said the spell that stunned the young blond man.

Neville, seeing his opponent fall unconscious on the ground, stopped and dropped his wand abruptly, disgusted. It seemed that the simple act of holding the object was inappropriate and unworthy for him.

“I- I- H- he was going to kill her.” He said to no one in particular, eyeing his open hands in front of him. When he spoke again, he addressed Ginny. “We heard your scream and I ran like a shot, without really thinking through or waiting for Harry. We ended up getting lost and when I got here… I should’ve never done that.” He concluded, shaking his head sadly.

Ginny walked to him; her legs still wobbly. She hugged her friend, noticing he was shaking as well. “Thank you, Nev. You were very brave and I’m always going to remember that you’ve saved me.” Her voice was hoarse and barely audible.

“We don't do _that_ , Gin. We don’t kill, we’re not murderers.” He choked out staring at the ground. “It's _so_ wrong."

She searched Harry with her eyes for support for Neville, but found the perplexed young man looking at Lucius Malfoy's body, as though he could not believe what his eyes were seeing.

“They weren't supposed to be here. They _weren't_ on the list.” Harry murmured while he ran his hands nervously through his black hair. “Fuck! The Malfoys weren't supposed to be here!”

Ginny felt like slapping him. What mattered least now was the bloody list of Death Eaters that would or would not be in the Forbidden Forest that night.

"Harry, I suspect that _now_ we have more important issues to deal with than a problem with Death Eaters’ attendance." She said through clenched teeth at the pain of talking.

"You don’t understand. They _really_ weren't supposed to be here!” He repeated devastated.

“It doesn’t matter anymore!!” She shouted, finally losing the temper she had been holding back and she could have sworn she felt her throat tear at the effort. “Whining isn’t going to help us! For Merlin’s sake, the man is already dead!” She put her hand on her throat as if the gesture could make it stop hurting.

After Ginny's outburst, Harry seemed to regain a little of his sense and tried control the situation. He looked at Percy, lying on the ground. "Is he...?"

"No. Draco just stunned him.” She replied, but her gaze was kindly fixed on the unconscious younger Malfoy. 

She could not suppress an overwhelming sense of gratitude that invaded her again. Harry just look at her, in a somewhat confused way. 

“Where are Ron and Hermione? Shouldn't they be with you?” She asked before Harry could inquire anything about the events prior to his arrival or about her unexpected kindness towards Malfoy.

Ginny did not want to discuss that now. Or never, to be honest.

“We’re going to meet them soon enough. We had planned to land in different areas so as not to get attention and meet using Hermione's Enchanted Coin.” He then addressed Neville, who still looked as though he might cry but seemed slightly better. "Are you ready to go, Nev? If you want, you can come back and-”

"No, Harry." Neville had recouped his energy and was already much more controlled, even if he was still shaking a little bit. He took one last look at Lucius Malfoy's body before talking again. "We knew it could happen."

Harry nodded understandingly at his friend and then walked over to Ginny. He removed her hand from around her neck and examined the two purple spots left by Lucius’ squeezing. A flash of anger passed through his green eyes. "You’ll be fine?”

“Yes.” She said firmly, her lips pressed together in a determined expression. 

Harry gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead and they did not need to exchange any more words after that. It was only when her two friends left the clearing that Ginny whispered a soft ' _Good luck_ '.

Afterwards, she went to where Draco Malfoy was fallen, took back her wand, conjured ropes and tied him up, all the time feeling her heart heavy like never before. 

“Malfoy-” She hesitated, not knowing what to say to him, but needing to say something nonetheless. “I hope one day you can find some peace. Please, forgive us.”

Turning her back to the son's unconscious body, she walked towards the father's lifeless body. She took off the long cloak she was wearing in order to cover what was left of Lucius Malfoy. She did not really understand why she did it, but in the end, she did it anyway. 

She shrugged, thinking that maybe she just did not want Draco to wake up and come face to face with his father's corpse exposed so cruelly.

 _Even though his father was a cruel person to me_ , she thought filled with bitterness.

Then she went over to Percy and woke her older brother with a spell. As soon as he opened his eyes, confused, she held out her hand to him.

"Come on, Percy. We have a hell of a work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know your thoughts about the chapter! I don't know if I'm doing it right, haha


	8. Coup de grâce

_**8 – Coup de grâce.** _

_ End of May, 1998 _

Ginny's mind was racing.

According to Harry's projections, there were two more Death Eaters covering the perimeter of the Forest. The Malfoys must have been assigned to the function in an unfortunate last-minute coincidence, but Ginny did not think they had increased the number of patrolling Death Eaters. Their presence had been just a stroke of misfortune.

Trying to deflect her thoughts from Draco and his father, she focused on finding out how the others were doing.

She walked with firm strides through the forest, this time taking the lead in front of Percy, who had become much more alert after being stunned by Malfoy. They did not dare to exchange a word for fear that it would attract unwanted attention.

They stopped suddenly when heard footsteps approaching. With their wands raised, they jumped over the bushes where they had hidden momentarily, ready to attack whoever got in their way. They came face to face with George and Angelina, in a position very similar to theirs. Ginny could not help noticing the strangeness of pointing her wand aggressively at George, and seeing him point his at her.

George looked gutted. “Merlin’s pants, it's you!" He said lowering his wand and letting out a sigh of relief. "There’s no more time, we need to find the others." He got straight to the point and his face was livid. “A Death Eater ran away. At this point, our operation would be more secret if we’d sent a howler to Voldemort.”

"First, we need to get our head on straight, find Dean and Lee and then-" Percy started saying and Ginny noticed George go even paler. Percy probably observed the same thing because he did not finish his lecture on _‘how we should organise ourselves in critical situations’._

“Lee is dead. The Death Eater who ran away from us was the responsible for it.” It was Angelina who explained, giving George's hand a little squeeze. 

It felt like his mind was elsewhere as he seemed to drift off momentaneous. Ginny knew how much that loss meant to George, especially after Fred. 

“Dean returned to the castle with Lee’s body. By now, Charlie and the Order must already be evacuating the castle. We thought it was the best thing to do.” Angelina continued in an apologetic tone.

“I'm _so_ sorry, George.” Ginny went over to her brother and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know he was a good friend to you.” 

Coming back to himself, George gently detached himself from the two girls who surrounded him.

"The best I can do for Lee – and for Fred - is to keep fighting." He said smiling sadly and looking at the still dark sky. "It’s an offense to their memory if the world continues to be so pitifully dull."

They stared at each other for a moment, hoping that the silent companionship could somehow comfort them.

Then, Percy cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Now that a Death Eater has fled and our offensive is no longer so secret, we have to decide whether to go back to the castle or look for Harry and the others.”

Ginny looked at the face of each member of her small group and their expression already revealed every answer that Percy's question demanded.

They were going to stay.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Ginny was almost out of breath when she reached Aragog’s clearing. Like everyone else, she had been aware of Ron and Harry’s little adventure in that place, at a year she would rather erase from her memory.

Involuntarily, she remembered when the two twats arrived at Hogwarts with her father's old Ford Anglia in her first year. The car now lived somewhere over there, in the Forbidden Forest, and she wondered where exactly a rusty enchanted car would choose to stay.

Her speculations were interrupted by Angelina. The young witch raised her index finger to her lips in a signal for them to stop moving forward, in silence. There were noises of spells being cast and growing screams from the clearing; surely Harry and the others were already there, fighting. Ginny's stomach was in knots.

They had the element of surprise on their side and just needed to decide how to take advantage of it. And, obviously, that was exactly what they _did not_ do.

With a considerable amount of bitterness, in the future Ginny would always remember that day as a clear example of an action that _should not_ be taken on impulse.

She never knew who had taken the initiative, only that, in the next moment, they were running madly towards the place where the sounds of spells being cast and occasional screams came from. 

Sporadically, Ginny felt her feet getting stuck in some roots, but even stumbling, she kept running as if her life depended on it.

And, indeed, it depended.

Getting closer to the center of the battle, George, who was running ahead of her, threw himself on the ground, rolling on the grass to avoid a spell that had his head as target.

“Fuck!” It was all Ginny heard from her brother before she jumped over the fallen figure that was swearing shameless. She had not needed to help him: she saw out of the corner of her eye that Angelina had already protected him against the attacks. Then she took the lead with Percy by her side, her wand at hand and her heart in her mouth.

They reached the core of the clearing where the battle was going on and Ginny held her breath.

The scene was chaotic: there were spells crossing the air; pairs, trios, dueled desperately. She registered that Voldemort was standing in the background of the clearing, with livid scarlet eyes fixed on nothing more than Harry Potter and one more time the twinge of fear hitting her was so sharp she gasped. 

Harry, on the other hand, was trying to reach the dark wizard, but his efforts were always hindered by some Death Eater. 

Ron followed suit, back to back with Harry, forming a position that guaranteed reasonable protection for both of them. Two masked Death Eaters dueled with them, insistently looking for a breach that would end the boys' advance.

Hermione was in a similar situation, her countenance typically focused; Ginny knew from experience that the Death Eater that was dueling with her would be in trouble soon enough. Neville had the most complicated situation: he had two Death Eaters with him, and he looked ready to succumb. 

Given the current layout of the battle, considering that Voldemort had not even deigned to raise his own wand yet, they would have had no chance if only the four of them had remained fighting. More than never, Ginny was happy to have decided to stay and fight.

After a moment, George stood side by side with her and Percy, his face contorting in a mask of anger that would never suit him.

“Rockwood! Come here, you bloody arsehole!” He shouted and headed for one oily-haired Death Eaters that was dueling Neville. 

Ginny realised that George's anger meant that this was the Death Eater who had killed Lee and he had opted to warn Voldemort instead of calling for reinforcements on top of the Death Eaters who were already in the Forbidden Forest.

A small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless.

At least the Death Eaters seemed to have been taken by surprise; the things from their makeshift camp were scattered on the floor, sometimes providing shelter for the duelists, sometimes acting as obstacles to the intense movement. Percy and Angelina bolted in the same direction as George, looking for others targets. Ginny took a deep breath and moved on, letting the adrenaline drive her movements.

She was so absorbed in the battle that only realised she would be attacked when was too late and a very heavy body crashed into her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her body with its weight. Ginny lost her breath and her eyes filled with water when her back hit the floor. Raising her head painfully, she recognised Gregory Goyle, who was trying to immobilize her using his strong arms. 

Once he succeeded, he inhaled her perfume breathing down her neck and murmured in her ear, hoarsely. “I’ve always wanted to know how your scent was." 

She took advantage of his distraction to struggle harder and dug her nails into his face. Goyle squirmed in pain and backed away from her, somewhat surprised by her reaction; Ginny rolled on the grass to get rid of him completely.

“And I’ve _never_ wanted to even come near you, you bloody arse-licker." She stood up quickly, but stumbled when he grabbed her ankle, furious at being scratched by her.

"You slag!" That was all he said when he started to pull her down. She almost fell again, and when Goyle prepared to project himself to knock her down one more time, he was hit hard by a spell and fell backwards, unconscious. Ginny turned around to see where the spell came from and spotted Harry, who even from a distance tried to check whether she was okay. She nodded slightly and he turned to resume his main objective - to reach Voldemort.

She walked through the clearing trying to get closer to Ron and Harry and when it dawned on her, she was beside Hermione, dueling with an unmasked Death Eater she already knew. Mulciber had been one of those who had chased Ginny and the others at the Ministry of Magic, two years earlier.

She attacked her enemies fiercely, as though she were taking all the anger of the past year on them, as if Mulciber personified all the wrong things in her life. Hermione kept pace with her, but never with the same bluntness. Ginny almost yelled at her when the older witch cast a Freezing Charm.

"Hermione, you need to be more _objective_!" She said in exasperation, as they hid behind a half-destroyed camp tent.

"I'm trying!" Hermione answered hastily, almost in the same tone. “I just can't concentrate properly with Harry there, needing help to fight Voldemort and-" She did not complete her reasoning when they had to bend down at the same time to dodge a spell that had been cast in their direction.

“Harry has to do this alone, you know. The prophecy...” Ginny said trying to hide her own insecurities on the matter. She did not have to finish the sentence - everyone there was already well aware of the prophecy that involved Harry and Voldemort. “Let’s go!" she shouted suddenly, pulling Hermione by the hand when the makeshift hideout would be targeted once again.

Now out in the open, Ginny ran hand in hand with Hermione. She only stopped momentarily to cast a spell towards a Death Eater who was dueling with Angelina and then turned her attention to Harry and Ron, who had knocked over one of their enemies. Now her brother was dueling with the one who was left and Harry was making his way resolutely towards Voldemort. 

Ginny was forced to return to the matter of her own survival when Hermione pushed her hard causing her stumble, almost tripping over her own legs; in the next instant, a curse that surely had been aimed at Ginny grazed Hermione instead, making a deep cut on the brunette’s left arm.

Hermione looked in amazement at the arm bleeding profusely.

“It's Dark Magic...” she stammered, raising her wand feebly, undecided about what to do. Not for the first time, Ginny imagined that Hermione had so much knowledge that, at times, she did not know which part of that encyclopedic mind of hers to access in order to answer a question that was too specific.

Hermione bit her lower lip and became more introverted, an expression that Ginny knew meant that she was thinking frantically about how to fix it.

In four strides, Mulciber had reached Hermione and put his wand sadistically against her chest, as a precaution against any movement Hermione might make. 

Ginny was not close enough anymore to hear what he said almost in her friend's ear, but she could see when Hermione released her wand in surrender and how the object seemed to fall in slow motion at her feet.

Mulciber tilted his wand at a better angle; Ginny saw his lips starting to move and suddenly the world stopped. She was aware of what was coming next and she also knew that she could not handle it one more time.

_Not Hermione, not Hermione._

“Hermione, no!” She voiced her thoughts and ran towards Mulciber. She threw her body against his with such violence that she managed to knock him over and his wand fell a few centimeters away from them both.

After rolling on the ground with the man, she managed to place herself on top of the Death Eater, straddling him. Since she knew it was a momentary advantage given the physical difference between the two, she pointed her wand unceremoniously at his face. She was staring down at the man's hateful countenance, which was now tense with worry.

_Fear in someone else?_

For once, Ginny was bewildered by being on the other side of the coin. Even if she did not want to or could not show it, she and her friends were always the ones who were afraid. But she did not want to be afraid anymore.

She wanted the Death Eater to disappear with the others. A drop of cold sweat ran down her face the moment she realised she wanted Mulciber _to vanish, to cease to exist._

The reverie prevented her from seeing the Death Eater’s hand seeking his wand discreetly. She did not have time to think properly when she finally observed with her peripheral vision that his hand closed around the wand and was getting ready to lift it. Ginny was aware that if he handled the wand as he pleased, it would be the end of it.

Then Ginny leaned down and almost whispered, her long red hair falling around her face, creating a curtain cutting Mulciber and her off from reality. “ _Avada Kedavra._ ” 

And her eyes closed along with Mulciber's, at the same time.

She remained like that, eyes closed, on top of the inert body for what seemed like a millennium, long enough for her to understand the new dimension of her life: she had acted exactly like the people she hated, like the ones she devoted her strength to fight against.

Where was the rationality of that? Where was the clear distinction between right and wrong? The image of Neville saying _'we don’t kill'_ came to her mind and her stomach sank.

Yes, they do.

"Ginny, come on!" Hermione lifted her up quickly by the arm, as if the image itself were aggressive, as if she did not want to see her friend there for another minute, over the Death Eater’s dead body. And then Hermione added quietly, a bit embarrassed. "Thanks."

Ginny nodded sadly. She knew that she had done what Hermione could not have. 

She might had become corrupted to a point that could lead her to cast doubt upon various aspects of her own ideals. And it could, in a way, keep her away from Harry... She touched the mokeskin pouch with his belongings she carried around her neck and looked at Harry, only to find him dueling with Voldemort. The dark wizard seemed unusually more restricted in his movements, as though his previously unshakable confidence was no longer entirely with him.

She shook her head to get rid of those doubts, it was not the place nor the time for it. More Death Eaters had arrived in the clearing; one of the bastards must have called for backup.

“Shit,” Ginny murmured, knowing the situation would potentially get worse now. She let herself be carried away by Hermione, who looked paler by the minute. They were stopped by a black-haired and hard-featured Death Eater who was promptly stunned by Hermione.

"Ginny, I need to stop somewhere safer to fix this mess,” Hermione pointed out the cut that was still bleeding on her left arm, looking worse and worse. “I can't keep fighting like this."

"Bloody hell!" Ginny was alarmed when she noticed the depth of the cut. "There’s shelter over there." After looking around, Ginny pointed to a large stone at the back of the clearing. They ran towards it, dodging occasional spells. Protected by the stone, Ginny managed to cast some spells at the Death Eaters while Hermione murmured the healing spells on her arm. 

From where she was, Ginny could see Voldemort and Harry still dueling fiercely while her brothers and friends had a hard time dealing with the growing number of Death Eaters.

Interestingly, neither side dared to interfere in the battle between the two most famous wizards, as if _that_ were something only the two of them could share. And some of those people really knew the truthfulness of that idea.

"Hermione, we have to go back!" Ginny exclaimed before disarming one of the Death Eaters who was approaching George from behind. "At this rate, I don't know how long we can stand it."

It took a minute for Hermione to answer, seeming to come out of a trance and looking at her arm with a resigned expression. “I'm done. It’s the best I could do under these conditions.” She said getting up and Ginny nodded in relief, seeing Hermione was back to sounding like herself.

“I’m sure the best you can do is more than enough.” Ginny said and Hermione smiled at her.

“I’ll help Ron to protect Harry, you help the others.” Hermione commanded and Ginny was glad to obey.

Hermione ran towards the place Harry and Ron were and Ginny stayed close to the edge of the clearing, dueling with as many Death Eaters as she could; After a few moments Percy joined her, trying to speak as he dodged and cast spells beside Ginny.

“Ginny, we must retreat!” 

"No!" She said through clenched teeth, “We can't give up now! We’re too close!”

“We’re too close to _our deaths_! We don't know how many Death Eaters can still show up!” He pulled his sister out of the way of a spell and threw a hex over her shoulder. “This was supposed to be a surprise attack! Now we've been hemmed in, outnumbered, and we’re out of courage to do what must be done.”

Ginny jerked Percy’s arm away. She wanted to scream that _she_ had had the courage to take a necessary drastic stand, but her voice got stuck in her throat.

What would everyone else think about her?

Suddenly, she realised she had no desire to know.

Reluctantly, she knew Percy had some reason: if using the Killing Curse was the price to end all these atrocities, Ginny was willing to pay it, but would the others be, too? She gazed around at her friends for the answer; some of them seemed to have reached the same conclusions as her: there were more dead bodies of Death Eaters scattered across the clearing.

Out of the blue, the image of Blaise Zabini appeared in her mind saying that the world was not exactly divided between black and white as she thought. Had she really lived so far from reality until that very moment?

Suddenly, an extraordinary silence spread over the clearing, paralyzing all the movement there and instinctively Ginny's eyes searched for Harry. He was on his feet, visibly tired. His face was dirty, his clothes were torn and his expression did not reveal the whirlwind of emotions he must have been felling. His wand was raised, pointing at a target, half lying on the ground.

Ginny's heart skipped a beat when she realised that it was really Voldemort who was on the floor, weakened, waiting for the sentence that would end all their suffering.

Waiting for a sentence that was taking _too_ long to come.

The tension was so latent that Ginny had to remember herself how to breathe. Everyone else were standing in a similar situation, waiting for the outcome of the confrontation. Friends and enemies, side by side, forming an audience full of fear and expectation. 

For the second time in that battle, Ginny was unable to distinguish opponents, classify conduct. Everyone had their destiny equally at stake at that moment, and that thought sent a chill down her spine.

Harry stood there, still as a statue. And then, as if he already considered himself a moral winner, he hesitated.

Voldemort smiled.

"This hesitation in doing whatever the situation demands is exactly what push us apart, Harry." Voldemort's voice echoed while he tried to get on his knees. Although weakened, Ginny trembled when she heard it. Instinctively she knew the feeling was also shared with everyone else around them. “And at the same time, it is what unites us. You reveal your _selfishness_ by refusing to kill me and that makes you more similar to me than you dare to imagine.”

"Shut up!" Harry spoke through his teeth, one hand pressing his wand so hard that his knuckles were white.

The red eyes shone with frightening intensity. "See, you dragged your friends here, knowing what they would find in the end. How many of them have already died, Harry? From your expression, I would say not many yet. But fear not: all of them will inevitably succumb, thanks to you. Because what you do to repay their noble sacrifice is just that: hesitating in face of me, when you have the chance to put an end to the bloodshed.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry screamed in an explosion that only reflected the pain his internal conflicts had caused him for so long.

If the Earth was still rotating, it did not matter anymore because at that very moment Ginny was sure that time itself had stopped.

The instant Harry closed his eyes to contain his frustration and shouted, Voldemort stood up with surprising agility and everyone around them seemed to come out from the voluntary enchantment that had kept them all motionless.

The movement of the Dark Wizard’s wand had a clear objective and the curse that would be shot from it within seconds would hit Harry squarely in the chest.

Ginny did not know exactly how, but she recorded the whole scene as in a Muggle film, which would torment her dreams for years to come.

Ron punched a Death Eater who was approaching him and knocked over another one, eager to stop Voldemort.

Hermione screamed and tried a Protective enchantment that would not stand a chance against a Killing Curse.

George was not close enough to stop anything, but even so, he ran to try to stop any Voldemort’s action. And, with him, was Ginny's hope, her heart in her mouth.

But Neville was _closer_. Close enough to realise Voldemort's intentions before anyone else, even before Harry. Then, without even hesitating, he threw himself in front of Harry just as the jet of green light blasted from Voldemort's wand.

It looked like a Dementor had drained all hope in the Earth at that time. 

Both boys fell flat on the ground, lifeless.

Neville had tried to use his own body as a shield to protect Harry, but his sacrifice had been in vain, the Killing Curse had somehow hit them both.

Neville's body was laying on top of Harry's, in a strange huddle that made Ginny's stomach churn and she could not even move, cry beside the person she loved, beside a dear friend of hers.

Seemed almost amused, Voldemort peered at the tip of his wand and absently said, "Two hippogriffs with one stone. Better than I dared to expect using Lucius's wand."

With that, he conveyed the impression to lose all interest in everything else around him.

His greatest objective had been achieved.

Soon after, it all happened like a dream for Ginny. She heard a sound like a horn. She felt Percy's arm around her waist and then he was carrying her as if she weighed nothing. She could only contemplate from afar Hermione kneeling by Harry and Neville's bodies, while Ron chased away with lethal curses any Death Eater who dared to get too close to them.

"It’s a bloody nightmare." She babbled to herself, while Percy threw her unceremoniously into the Ford Anglia that had belonged to their father.

Even for objects, old loyalties died hard.

She did not even see what happened next. She did not see George protecting Angelina and heading for the car while Percy cast spells from the driver's seat. She did not see when the car started moving, leaving the Forbidden Forest behind. She did not see when the Order of the Phoenix came to their rescue, too late.

She had seen nothing else.

Harry Potter had died. And, with him, the best part of Ginny Weasley as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the people who are commenting, my sincere thanks. Your comments may seem like a small kindness, but to me it means A LOT.
> 
> Thank you so much for encouraging the authors of the stories you enjoy.


	9. Time and Tide Wait For No Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story is very important because this is where the plot jumps in time and begins to evolve. The sections of the chapter are in chronological order with the exception of the last one (which happens more or less simultaneously with the first one). But just follow the dates at the beginning of each section and there will be no problem! =)

**9 –Time and Tide Wait For No Man**

_**August 11, 1998** _

_**Shell Cottage** _

Ginny was walking by the shore, feeling the waves of the sea crash against her bare shins. That was how she spent most of her time at Bill's house - her family's new hiding place. She had acquired that habit since the flight from Hogwarts, since her life had changed completely. 

Once again.

The defeat of the Order of the Phoenix - Harry's _death_ \- had led to the inevitable loss of Hogwarts. Nobody else wanted to stay in the castle, terrified of Voldemort's fury after The Boy Who _Not_ Lived had capitulated. 

Ginny could not blame any of them: Harry's death meant the loss of hope, of _perspective_. And in some ways, that was the worst defeat one could have.

The Order tried to maintain its position for a time, but, outnumbered and hopeless, it was unable to stop Voldemort. The best alternative then was to dissipate the Order and its collaborators, protect them with _Fidelius Charm_ and wait...   
Waiting for what, Ginny was in no position to say. She sighed loudly thinking about the hard time and persecution that would befall upon her family and friends.

They would be hunted, that was for sure. They would be killed if they were not careful. They would be wiped out at the first opportunity. She felt like crying, but she could not; something inside her had been lost, others things had hardened.

She sighed again, crossing her arms over her chest. Ten people left that night, flying from the Astronomy Tower in a desperate attempt to end the most feared Dark Wizard of all times. Only seven of them were back. But, much more than human loss, their defeat had meant the loss of an _ideal_. The last hope of the Wizarding World had perished under Neville Longbottom's lifeless body.

Ginny remembered very little of the moments that followed the events in the Forbidden Forest. When her father's old Ford Anglia had taken them back to Hogwarts, the castle was in a colossal commotion. People were being evacuated, others were sneaking out at the chance of leaving that chaotic and terrifying scenario. 

Some members of the Order of the Phoenix were there, supporting and taking care of those in need, however, when they saw the teenagers who had left on a secret mission (and suicidal, in Molly Weasley's opinion) returning defeated, tired, morally destroyed, they realised what should be done: protect the people who were there as much as possible and send the members of the Order and their collaborators away.

And so, all of them had dispersed.

Molly, Arthur, George and Ginny were sent to Shell Cottage, to live with Bill and Fleur. Charlie had returned to Romania, where he could articulate a resistance away from England. 

Percy had refused to take refuge there and had remained in London; he said it would be easier to infiltrate and organise the resistance if he were in the city - and organisation still seemed to be the keyword which guided all Percy's actions.

George, at first, wanted to go with his brother, but somehow their mother had convinced him otherwise; Ginny strongly suspected that it had something to do with Fred, but she never dared ask to any of them.

Ron and Hermione showed up a few days after Ginny's family arrived at the Shell Cottage. During the Battle in the Forbidden Forest, they were unable to proceed to the castle given the number of Death Eaters who blocked the way and had to flee with the help of Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

Evidently, they had stayed behind for Harry, in a devotion that remained even after his death; Ginny felt a hint of envy when she thought about the trio’s union and how she had never been as close to Harry as Ron and Hermione were, even when Harry and her shared that night in the Hufflepuff dormitories.

They had stayed in the Forest until they were able to leave with the bodies of Harry and Neville. Ginny had learned later that they had gone to one of Longbottom’s home in Spain, where Neville's grandmother had been born and where she could bury her grandson and Harry. Ginny agreed with that; even though Harry was so far away now, taking Neville home to his grandmother was the least they could do for him.

She often thought that one day she should go and visit Harry's grave, even if that particular desire of hers bothered Ron to no end.

She thought this was due to the fact that he was reacting very badly to the death of his best friend. She knew it instinctively, because it was the same with her, even if she let it show much less than Ron.

Ginny was taken out of her daydreams when she saw a figure with very long blond hair approaching, her trousers lifted halfway up her calf, mirroring Ginny's own look.

“Hello, Ginny." Luna greeted in her ethereal tone. She had also taken refuge at Shell Cottage, knowing that her father's house was no longer safe for either of them.

Her presence was one of Ginny's few consolations; the silences shared with her friend were natural and welcomed, not forced at all. And they understood each other.

"I knew I would find you here." She said softly, smiling to Ginny. “It’s my favorite place too.”

“I think I learned to value the beautiful things in life.” Ginny sighed, avoiding thinking in everything she had lost.

The pair turned to eye the horizon and a summer breeze lifted their loose hair, red and yellow, reflecting the color of the sky at the end of that afternoon. 

"It's time to go back to the house, I think.” Luna said after a moment of contemplation. “You've been here alone all day and if it starts getting dark, we might come across angry Wrackspurts.”

“We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?" Ginny replied good-naturedly.

“It’d be unwise.” Luna agreed solemnly. “Besides, it's your birthday. I know we don't have a lot to celebrate, but at least we should try.”

"Yes, you’re right." Ginny sighed in resignation. "Do you think my mum made Cauldron Cake?" She asked trying to smile and starting walking towards the house, side by side with Luna.

"You bet!" Luna’s smile was radiant. "George helped, too." She stopped talking suddenly, putting a finger under her chin. “Hm, your mother asked me to encourage you to come in and I suppose the fact that George put his hand on something you’re going to eat isn’t much of an incentive, since you’ll most likely end up with some sticky substance over your hair." She seemed to ponder alone and then changed the subject in the best Luna Lovegood style and Ginny simply smiled at that. "What do you want to get for your birthday?"

Ginny stopped short at the unexpected question. There were so many distant things that she longed, now that she was finally an adult legally: The Burrow, peace, Harry.

However, despite so many doubts, despair, bitterness and sadness, the answer to Luna's question came to her easily, naturally. Facing her friend's questioning expression, Ginny said softly:

"I already have my birthday gift." She raised her hand and rested on her still flat stomach. "I guess I'm pregnant."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

**  
_February, 1999_  
**

**_Shell Cottage_ **

Molly Weasley was walking around the room beaming, as if the world had been reduced to Bill and Fleur's bedroom. Some magical adaptations were made in the house to accommodate that number of people, however, on that particular occasion, the main bedroom was used for another purpose.

She was cradling a little bundle wrapped in a white cloak while murmuring tender words to someone who certainly could not understand anything she was saying. Arthur Weasley, for his part, was sitting in an armchair with a smile that rejuvenated him for at least ten years.

Ginny was in the middle of the bed, her long red hair tousled and spilled over the white pillows. She struggled to get up on her elbows, after the effort that had been giving birth a few hours earlier. She smiled weakly when saw her mother cradling her baby.

"Have you already thought about his name?" Her father asked smiling, noticing his daughter's still sleepy movements.

"Yes." Ginny replied in a hoarse voice due to the lack of use. "His name is James."

A silence invaded the room after that and it was no longer necessary to talk about it for a long time.

"It's a beautiful name, dear." Her mother said condescendingly, taking her eyes off the baby boy for the first time. "I’m sure Harry would be very happy with your choice."

Her eyes watered, but it was no time for that. She shook her head to chase away those nostalgic feelings.

"Mum, dad..." Ginny started to speak hesitantly. "I know it’s kind of a can of worms that has been avoided by everyone because you all didn't want to talk about it, but-" She took a breath, lifted her chin and gathered all the courage she had, despite her tiredness. "I need to go."

Her mother froze in the middle of the room and she felt her father stiffen in the chair, letting out a long sigh as if he knew that this very moment would come, sooner or later - and he would much rather it to be later. But it was Molly who first spoke up, much to Ginny's dismay: she knew her mother would be much more adamant than her father.

“It doesn't make any sense, Ginny. In the name of Merlin, you just gave birth to him! Besides, where would you go? No, this is silly.” Molly shook her head, as if dismissing a trivial idea, her attention back on the baby.

"I'm not saying I'm going to leave _now_." Ginny said defensively, curling up on the bed a little bit. "I'm still going to wait a month or two, until the baby is strong enough to-"

"Ginny!" Molly interrupted stormily. "How can you possibly think about leaving your family with a newborn baby?"

Ginny lifted her chin belligerently and two pairs of bright brown eyes, so essentially equal, sent angry sparks at each other. 

"Mom, I'm not asking for permission, I'm an adult now. You can't lock me up here and, most importantly, you _shouldn't_ lock me up here."

Ginny looked suddenly more tired, sighing deeply before continuing. 

"If they find me with you, I’m still going to be Ginny Weasley and it won’t take much intelligence from a Death Eater to deduce who his father is.” She left the answer in the air, making a vague gesture towards James with her hand. “Who has eyes in that shade of green…”

Molly, seeming to refrain an uneasiness, placed the child in a small crib in the corner of the room and went to sit beside her daughter on the bed, taking the Ginny's hand with affection; all the previous tension in her almost vanished, as if it had never existed to begin with.

Ginny could not help but wondering if she would ever develop the maternal ability to move from the _'I'll skin you alive if you disobey me_ ' to the ' _come here, my love_ ' that Molly Weasley often exuded. "We can protect you, dear. They won't find us."

"What if they find us, mum? What's the chance of sparing our family? What's the chance of sparing the _Weasleys_?" Ginny did not wait for her mother's obvious answer. “And what’s the chance of sparing a Harry Potter’s child? I know that you’re never going to abandon this fight and I wouldn’t ask you for anything else. I’m proud of our family for this." 

"And we’re very proud of the woman you’ve become, Ginny." Arthur kindly conceded.

Ginny smiled faintly at her father, but did not back down. "The truth is: I can't expose myself now, exactly because James came into the world with everything to lose, from every side. If they knew about him, who his father is, the people on our side would start to expect more from him than a baby can give. And You-Know-Who…" She left the sentence in the air, suddenly afraid again to use Voldemort's name. “I don't want him to grow up torn between burden and dread.”

_As Harry did_ , she completed mentally.

What remained of the strength of Molly's argument seemed to crumble at the truth of Ginny’s reasoning and she remained silent, immersed in her own thoughts.

“Ginny is right, Molly.” Her father conceded, still sitting in the armchair in the corner of the bedroom. “The best chance for this baby to have a decent life is to be away from us, and preferably away from the wizarding world as well. We’ve already talked about it.”

Ginny rested her tired head on the pillow and closed her eyes for a few moments. Her father's every word had been said with reserve and suffering she was not used to hearing from him. And the revelation that her parents had already come to the same conclusion as her did not ease her heart.

“Promise us we'll be able to meet every now and then, even if he doesn't know who we are..." Molly said looking at James and remained silent for a while before resumed talking, this time facing Ginny. “And, please, be careful. I wouldn't bear to lose another child.”

"You’re not losing me, mum.” Ginny's voice was choked with emotion. “You’re allowing your grandson to live."

And the two hugged each other tightly, tears impossible to be held back, under Arthur Weasley's teary gaze.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

**  
_April 1999_  
**

**_Shell Cottage_ **

"Have you packed everything you need?" Molly Weasley sounded concerned, surrounding her daughter to make sure all precautions had been taken.

Ginny rolled her eyes when heard the question for the seventh time in the past two hours. She definitely could not be mad at her mother for showing such worry, but the situation itself was already quite exhausting.

“Yes, mum. And I'm also taking groceries, every galleon we managed to get, James's belongings, some potion books that might be useful and some ingredients for more basic potions." She had memorized the entire list. Thanks to Hermione's help, she had managed to reproduce the Undetectable Extension Charm in her backpack and now everything was ready.

“You know when you arrive in London, Percy will have to charm you so you won’t remember our location from now on. Are you still sure about that?”

They had also discussed that particular point before. As a touch of sadism from fate, Ginny knew that she could not have memories of the place where she had spent the last few months, leaving her only hazy memories of the period she spent at Shell Cottage.

"Yes." Ginny said firmly, looking away from her mother and gazing at every people she loved around her. "It’s a price I’m willing to pay."

Her all family was there to watch her go: Ginny had spent considerable time with each of them since she had decided to leave - even with Fleur, who had become very attached to the baby - and had already said goodbye to everyone. It certainly did not make the task of leaving any easier.

The portkey that would take her to a safe meeting with Percy - and from there to the Muggle part of London - would activate at any moment and Ginny did not know what to do to ease the situation. She just wanted to say that she would stay and fight tooth and nail for her family, no matter what the consequences, but as soon as she looked down and saw James nestled in her arms, staring at her with those big green eyes, she knew she had no choice.

She embraced each of them one more time: her mother, her father, Bill, Fleur, George, Hermione, Luna. And Ron.

Her brother was a little more taciturn than usual, standing there holding hands with Hermione. He had been the one who had fought the most against Ginny's resolution and had not accepted completely her reasons for leaving, even though she had explained it to him hundreds of times.

Ginny approached him and lifted James to make him more visible to her brother. 

"See? A piece of Harry is still with us." Ron's ears tinged red and Ginny could not make out the reason, although the sudden stiffness in Hermione's stance was a strong indication that this was still a forbidden subject to them. "Just like a piece of you will always be with me." She completed smiling to him, pointing to her own heart.

Ron said nothing - despite his teary eyes - he just pulled her and kissed her forehead, in a gesture that made Ginny very disconcerted.

The portkey was shaped like an old newspaper and began to shake in Ginny's hand, a clear indication that the time do leave was coming and she took a few steps back.

She saw her mother hide a tearful face on her father's shoulder, Bill smiling confidently and proudly next to Fleur. She saw George approach her, Ron and Hermione, with a casual gesture, as if they were at King's Cross.

“Don't worry, Gingin, we’re going to keep an eye on you. And do teach this boy to behave like a real Weasley, or else I’ll make constant visits and teach him myself." He said passing his index finger on the baby's cheek.

Afraid to break into tears and make it all even more difficult, Ginny held the illegal portkey provided by Kingsley firmly and, holding James in her arms, felt the uncomfortable feeling of a hook pulling her navel to a new location.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

**  
_August 2000_  
**

**_London’s Suburban Area_ **

Ginny snorted loudly, blowing an annoying strand of red hair out of her face. She was definitely not good at _that_.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her small one room flat, Ginny had been trying to _sew_. It was her new endeavor, which at first looked promising - just like all the previous ones - but now it was probably doomed to failure - just like all the previous ones.

She had successfully placed the sewing thread in the eye of the needle and felt elated. After that, she did not really know what to do: she tried one stitch, then another, then another ...

As a result, she had a very strong guess she had ruined the shirt of one of her few customers.

She snorted again and held back a swear. _How hard it is to do manual labor using only the hands!_

She sniffed and laughed at the same time, amid the humor and dismay contained in that thought. When she moved to pick up another spool, she felt something press against her right thigh – a very familiar item. She stopped suddenly, pulling her wand out, as though she had not seen the object in years - in fact, she had seen it that morning, when she thought insistently about using it to get a haircut, since her hair was growing out of control again.

Ginny raised her wand to the level of her brown eyes. They glowed with greed when she thought she could fix the pile of clothes with just a simple spell. She touched the wand to her forehead, wanting to say just a few words and-

A high-pitched sound of something shattering on the floor broke her concentration: James stood up on his plump tiny legs trying to grab a bibelot from a shelf, dropping a glass in the process. He turned to her, falling on his diaper-protected arse and pouted as someone who was up to no good.

Ginny smiled truly and hugged the boy; she looked at his reddish-brown hair, his bright green eyes, and thanked Merlin for the fact James had claimed her attention before she could have cast any spell. There would be no way for the Ministry of Magic - entirely in Voldemort's hands - to ignore the fact that some spells were being cast in the Muggle part of London. For her son, she could not risk it.

"So young and already looking forward to protect your dumb mum, huh?"

James only giggled in response.

Hence, she continued to try every kind of Muggle job that she was qualified to do.

Unfortunately, the fact that she was undesirably clumsy had caused her to be fired when she tried to be a cleaner. Being a private teacher had also been ineffective when the parents dismissed her saying she had filled the children's heads with fantasies. After that, Ginny was sure she should have paid more attention to her Muggle Studies’ classes.

The babysitting job was also not very long-lasting: she had a way with children, especially after James, but the problem ended up being just that: most parents had problems believing Ginny would take care of their children properly, having a child of her own to take care of.

Ginny knew things would only get worse from now on: she felt her skin practically itch in the face of the abstinence caused by the lack of magic and she sensed that James would soon be able to demonstrate his magical abilities as well. The week before, he had made his baby food fly to the opposite wall without even raising his hands. 

And, obviously, Ginny had cleaned the mess without using her wand.

May her parents - and all the good values they taught their children - forgive her, but Ginny _hated_ being a Muggle.

She had a very strong feeling that no matter how rational and prudent it was, she would not be able to live in the Muggle world for much long.

A quick knock on the door brought her out of her daydreams. She knew in advance that it would be Mrs. Carter, the neighbor who was the only person who visited her normally and used the door to enter.

On the few occasions that her relatives visited her, they used to adopt more illicit means, so to speak.

"Good morning, Mrs. Carter! You’re early." Ginny said after putting James down, tidying up her wrinkled clothes and going to open the door. "James and I are not ready yet and-"

"Oh, Ginny!" The woman spoke hastily, darting in Ginny’s small flat. "I know I promised I’d babysit James so that you could take the repaired clothes to your customers, but unfortunately I’m in no condition! I can hardly stand for a long time. My head is killing me!" She finished sighing dramatically.

"It’s all right, Mrs. Carter." Ginny replied with a tired smile. “I haven't finished fixing some garments yet..." She pointed to the pile of clothes with a resigned gesture.

_And I’ll probably never finish fixing any of it._

“I’m so sorry, dear.” Mrs. Carter lamented and Ginny watched her neighbor more closely.

The Muggle woman looked like she had not slept a wink the previous night, probably fighting a dragon. She was wrapped in a purple dressing gown that did not hide her sharp thinness and the dark circles in her eyes attested to a very bad night's sleep.

Her neighbor's migraines were becoming a habit and Ginny felt sorry for her, but there was not much she could do without using her wand. Suddenly, Ginny remembered the last time she saw her mother; Molly Weasley had delivered a series of potions that Ginny herself had made in the time they spent together into hiding. Maybe she already possessed something for a headache.

“Stay with James for a minute, will you? I think I have something that might help you."

She ran to her small room and riffled through a small box, looking for a little vial containing a whitish liquid. After finding it, she returned to the living room (which also served as a kitchen), with the happy expression of someone who had finally felt useful somehow.

“The taste isn’t so good, but it’s worthy.” Ginny handed the flask over, giving her neighbor a friendly wink. “It’ll help you.”

Mrs. Carter looked at the vial with a spark of suspicion in her eyes, but was convinced by her pain. She turned the contents at once and swallowed with difficulty. The change in her countenance was almost instantaneous: she seemed to have rejuvenated a few years.

“Ginny, what did you put in here?" She said curiously, shaking absently the empty little bottle, unlabeled, unmarked.

Ginny immediately tensed and was sure if she opened her mouth, she would stutter like Neville in front of Snape. She was even more disconcerted by the tightness in her heart she felt at the memory of her deceased friend.

Luckily for her, Mrs. Carter continued to chatter, "Oh, never mind! I just have to thank you! You’re an angel! I haven't felt that good in a long time. If you want, I can stay with James as long as you need to!" She took Ginny's hands effusively.

"It's not necessary, Mrs. Carter. I think I’m still going to keep these clothes for a long time." Ginny sighed at the knowledge that she had no ability to fix those clothes anytime soon.

"Even so, you know I’m right there across the hall if you need me." Her neighbor walked to the door smiling, enjoying her new wellness and Ginny could not help but smile back.

When she arrived at the door she stopped suddenly, looking at Ginny curiously.

“I had no idea you were an apothecary. You shouldn't waste this talent sewing clothes.”

And she left, leaving Ginny with the seed of an idea in her mind, one that teased and scared her at the same time.

She went over to James and sighed one more time as she picked him up, hugging the boy tightly against her. He, in turn, played with the red strands of her hair, oblivious to his mother's concerns. It was not _fair_ to deprive him of his own world, his true origins, but had not it been the most prudent action she could have taken?

However, how long would she still be able to hide among Muggles? How much time did they still have?

There was no denying that James and her overflowed magic from every pore and it would be very difficult – not to say impossible - to eliminate such characteristic from them. It was as if they were telling a healthy bird that it could not fly anymore.

And when James received the letter from Hogwarts, how would they continue to hide?

_Questions, questions and more bloody questions ..._

And in the next instant, smelling her son's scent so close to her, she knew the answer.

She should hide, it was true. But that did not _necessarily_ mean hiding from the Wizarding World.

As much as that epiphany raised a red flag in her head, warning her that the desire to return was just selfishness on her part, she did not give due attention to it: lately Ginny had become an expert in being selfish. It was almost a question of survival at that point.

At that moment, the _girl_ who had been Ginny Weasley was dead.

And the new _woman_ who had just been born needed an identity.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

**  
_September 2002_  
**

**_Diagon Alley_ **

_Ginevra_ , standing facing the generous window of her three-room flat above a store that sold second-hand items in the Diagon Alley, looked down at the profusion of shops and restaurants below. It was early September and the students were preparing to go to Hogwarts, buying the necessary school supplies.

The difference in behavior from her school days to now was striking: at that moment, everything was taciturn and dark, there were no colors, nor the excitement of going to school, even among those of pure blood.

Ginny shuddered at the political situation: it was really a dark time.

"Mrs. Woodcroft! More people have ordered your potions!" Flynn Midgeon burst into the living room of the small flat she had rented. “ _Everyone_ wants your potions! The fame about their quality is already spreading! And, this time, I didn't even need to start the rumors." He laughed contagiously.

Ginny, or rather, _Ginevra of Woodcroft_ let out a relieved breath. She had spent every Sickle of her meager savings on the ingredients of the potions and was betting heavily on the wizards’ new consumption pattern.

_Potions related to people's safety._

Living within the muggle world only made Ginny confirm what her parents had taught her since she was old enough to balance on her own legs: whether they were witches or muggles, people's concerns were always the same.

_Safety._

Safety for their family, safety for their property, safety for themselves. And with that idea in mind, she knew she could apply some little things she had learned from muggles. However, while they used technology, wizards, in turn, used _potions_. And Ginny knew some of the good ones.

"I've _never_ seen so many galleons in front of me." Flynn whirled happily around Ginny, then he became suddenly self-conscious, feeling the need to assert his competence as her employee. "Of course, I’ve put everything in your vault at Gringotts."

Ginny smiled. 

Flynn was a skinny 'boy' a few years younger than her, with brown hair that fell over blue eyes and a totally optimistic way of face his life. At the very beginning, when Ginny did not even have a sickle to buy spare ingredients, she had hired him as he had a certain talent with potions and enjoyed working with them.

It had been a successful bet.

As a matter of fact, at the time when she had hired him, he had not had much prospect of professional growth: he had come from Ireland and had been released by the Ministry commission that approved the Blood Status, but other than that, he had nothing else to do in England, neither a job, nor the end of his studies. 

And ever since Ginny had returned to circulate among the wizards, he was her most faithful companion.

“I'm glad we're thriving, Flynn!” She winked at him knowingly. "Soon we can have our own space, if we dedicate ourselves to brewing more and better potions."

He saluted her good-naturedly. Ginevra of Woodcroft's dedication to work was already becoming known at Diagon Alley.

“The goblins will surely come to you to increase the size of your vault." He said it while spreading his arms, as if he could measure the amount of the wealth he would like them to earn. “And soon all London will know, 'if you want to protect your family from the Resistance and from You-Know-Who, get the potions that You-Know-That-Works: buy from Ginevra of Woodcroft'."

It was impossible for Ginny not to grin, despite eyeing slightly reproachfully at the young man. They lived in times when people had little sympathy for this kind of joke. Flynn had lived until over a year before in Ireland, where Voldemort's influence was not yet as latent, and Ginny thought he was still very innocent about certain aspects of his new life.

And about certain aspects of _her_ life.

Immediately, she thought about her new life, her new name.

_Ginevra of Woodcroft._

It had taken her a long time to decide and, at first, she was relieved to be able to get rid of her real first name - she had never been fond of it, after all. In her head, she has always been Ginny, not Ginevra.

To replace it, she had thought about Eleanor and Harriet, dismissing them for being too aristocratic and flashy; then she thought about Kate and Ruby, but they were not effective either as Ginny considered them very simple and showy because of that.

After discarding an endless list of possible names, she realised that none of them was appropriate precisely because no other name was… _Ginevra_.

Ginny simply could not get rid of her name, the remnant of her contact with her parents' world, the name they had given her.

She comprehended that whoever the Ministry was looking for, if it were really looking for, was a skinny, brash, temperamental and idealistic girl, whose name was Ginny Weasley. 

Seeing her reflection in the window pane, she knew that a young widow in her early twenties - extremely reserved, cold and objective-, called Ginevra of Woodcroft, was reflected there.

Sometimes, she found it hard to recognise herself.

The surname that provided her anonymity deserved a little more attention. She needed an alibi to ensure that the Ministry would not need to investigate it further.

Percy worked with an undercover contact at the Ministry who provided false identities for Muggle-borns or for those who wanted a new chance outside the country. With his eternal ability to organise and document, he had helped Ginny to obtain documents and even a more robust family tree.

However, in order to do so, she first had to choose a surname.

She had resolved to disguise herself as a widow descended from one of the branches from Scotland of the Hengist of Woodcroft family - the Muggle-persecuted founder of Hogsmeade. An ambitious young woman who thought now that England was undergoing racial 'cleansing', it would be a more interesting place for 'real' wizards.

She was confident this would give her some stability regarding the Blood Status and, until now, after almost two years of living again in the wizarding world, she had only had to go through the initial registration, in an extremely tense situation, but one that had not been repeated since then.

And that was how she came back from the dead.

"Hey, Mrs. Woodcroft!" Flynn was snapping his fingers in front of her, trying to get her attention "You seemed to daydream, out of the blue."

"I was thinking about the bigger place we’ll have to rent soon to continue producing our potions." She composed herself, smiling. "Come on, we have work to do!"

When they were getting ready to organise the cauldrons and books scattered around the small room, they heard a loud noise coming from her bedroom. Ginny walked over there, with Flynn on her heels, and stopped suddenly at the scene.

James, blatantly smiling and at the height of his three-year-old's vitality, was hanging by his foot by a house-elf, who was trying to balance a series of utensils in her other hand - from a cauldron to old boxes that should have been on a shelf above them. Ginny had a very strong feeling that James had something to do with the cause of all this.

"Sorry, ma’am, very sorry." The elf stumbled over the words and Ginny did not know if her hesitation was due to the fact that the creature felt the old impulse to self-harm or because of the very uncomfortable position she was in.

If Flynn was Ginny's right-hand man, Della, the house-elf, was all the rest. She had appeared as soon as Ginny coordinately tapped the brick wall at the rear courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley, with a baby of just over a year in her arm and a small suitcase with her belongings in the other. And, strangely, Della had looked at James with fascination, as if she were there for him.

Della served Orla Quirke’s family, whose members were sentenced to Azkaban because their blood purity was not approved. In a last gesture before they left, they had given her an order - as Ginny later learned - to hide and look after herself until they could return.

In a surprising degree of autonomy, the elf had decided to be useful in a very unusual way.

Ginny remembered it like it was yesterday, when the house-elf came into her life:

_"Ma’am," Della said, addressing Ginny, but bowing towards James, almost touching her nose to the ground. "Della’s happy that you finally came back. There was a lot of trouble to find you among the Muggles."_

_"Er, hello." Ginny said visibly disconcerted. "You must be making a mistake. I don't have a house-elf and I’m sure the family you belong to doesn't know me either." She replied, just wanting to get rid of the situation as quickly as possible without drawing any attention._

_"Della has no family to serve. Not anymore. They're under arrest." She spoke with so much sadness that alarmed Ginny. "But Della can use her time for something useful. To help someone who has helped Della. Someone who has helped the elves.”_

_At that, Ginny seriously thought about sending Della to Hermione, until she remembered that she had no idea where her friend was. And, on top of that, she was getting very uncomfortable with the fact the elf did not take her eyes off James._

_"Erm, Della, isn't it? I would love to help you, but can’t let you stay with me. I can't pay you; I can't even offer you shelter and-"_

_"Dobby was my friend." Della's first impulse would certainly have been to punish herself for interrupting a human she was trying to serve, but she courageously continued saying. "He told me all about the kindness of Harr-"_

_"Shhh!" Ginny cut her off abruptly. "And what do you want from me? He's already dead, isn't he?" She could not help but take out her frustration caused by that wound still open on the creature in front of her. "There’s nothing we can do about it, so you better go and-"_

_“All elves are grateful to him. Della owes him gratitude, she does, for everything he has done for an elf. And for that, Della wants to help his son.”_

_Ginny's heart skipped a beat_. How did she know about James? Could anyone else know as well? 

_Della seemed to read her frantic thoughts._

_“Della had a lot of trouble finding you, ma’am. Only found you with the help of your brother who lives in London; he said an elf would be useful to you and the baby. He said a piece of Harry Potter survived and was with you. Della isn’t very fond of being free, but she greatly appreciates Harry Potter's efforts to treat house-elves as beings with feelings.”_

_And her bottom lip trembled visibly, in an expression that would have made Ginny laugh in another situation. But she was more concerned with thinking of ways to torture Percy for opening up his big mouth about James; life was difficult enough without crazy elves walking after her._

_Undecided, she reached for Harry's belongings in the pouch she carried around her neck and felt her eyes water. James, for his part, reached out a little hand towards Della and smiled radiantly; and then immediately Ginny knew that the house-elf would stay with them from then on._

_James made the decision that she had not had the courage to make._

James' laughter brought her back to the present abruptly.

"I got this, Della. I'll take care of this brat." Ginny took the baby and lifted him up until she was face to face with the boy's mischievous green eyes. "Enjoy it while you can. If you were a little older, you’d fix this mess by yourself, little man!" And James laughed, as he always did, feeling protected by his young age.

"I can keep an eye on him while you put everything back in place." Flynn said, certainly wanting to escape from the task of organising the objects scattered on the floor.

"It’d be nice, Flynn. Just assure me he won't break our stock of potion vials. _Again_." She replied, handing the baby over to Flynn, who left the room with the smiling James trying to jump on his neck.  
Ginny began to stack the objects methodically. There were many things there because that was the place where she kept some of her 'payments'. Many people looking for her, especially in the beginning, were desperate for effective defense potions against the turbulent times they lived in, however, they had no galleons enough to pay her.

Then, Ginny decided she could try to help these people out, but found out that many of them refused to receive the charitable gesture. As a way of keeping things even, they ended up giving her various objects, as a symbolic reward.

On a cold night the week before, a man and his son knocked on Ginny's door sneakily, looking for Baneberry Potion for their attempt to cross the country and leave England.

It was the kind of situation she could not say no to.

"I don't have any galleons I can spend right now, Mrs. Woodcroft, but I’m extremely grateful that you gave me and my son a chance." Said the strong man with a prominent mustache, pointing to a boy, about fourteen years old. "While I can't pay you with cash, I can offer one of the most precious assets I have. I won't need it where we’re going."

Then the boy came over and held out a box to Ginny, who took it more out of reflex; she had not noticed the object before. She had not even had time to say that it was not necessary and wish them luck. The two of them had already turned and disappeared into the fog of Diagon Alley while she eyed the box suspiciously.

Now she was in front of the same box, which she had not been careful to inspect properly that night. Dropped to the floor and opened, the box revealed a shallow metal basin, with runes and symbols carved on its sides. Inside, Ginny saw a silvery substance, neither liquid nor gaseous, it was something in the middle.

_Where had this man gotten a Pensieve?_ She knew it was a rare object and that one did not seem to be the Pensieve that used to be in Dumbledore's office. The one in her hands was a smaller, less elaborate version of the one at Hogwarts.

_Dumbledore._

Thinking about the Headmaster made her heart sink. She did not want anything to remind her of those times. No longer. It was hard enough to look at James every day and know where he came from.

She jumped up off from the ground.

"Della, can you finish packing these things for me, please?" The house-elf twisted her big potato nose at Ginny's kindness, but bowed her head slightly. The red-haired woman then pointed to the Pensieve. “I want to get rid of this thing as soon as possible. I don't need any more things to remember the past.” She said and Della looked at her with wide eyes, as if she could not believe Ginny really meant to get rid of such a traditional object. “Anyway, I think we’re going to get a fair number of galleons in exchange for it."

And Ginny left the room quickly, ready to drown her past in hours of brewing potions.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

**  
_June 1998_  
**

**_Glastonbury_ **

Voldemort tried to fly without the aid of any object, but failed, even after much concentration.

He would need to apparate and he did not want anyone to go with him; he was weak, but still was the most powerful living wizard. Showing any sign of weakness was inconceivable to him.

Having to move around like ordinary wizard consumed him by fury and anger, feelings that clouded his mind.

They should be his fuel, not make his reasoning difficult.

He cleared his mind to do what should be done. This was the time to be _objective._

Harry Potter had succumbed and now nothing could keep him from mastery, from power, from _immortality_. There was no longer the shadow of a predestined boy to bother him, like an insistent fly diverting him from his goals for the past two decades.

But for now, he should be cautious; he was still weak, his soul depleted. More than once he wondered if he could, after having his Horcruxes destroyed by the damned boy, succumb to the need to divide his soul once more and what would be the consequences of that, even for him... It was a delicate matter that no one in the world, in that time or in the remote past, had managed to unravel.

He would be the pioneer, the first to cross that path, as in so many other situations where he forced the limits of magic and played with the boundaries of what was considered human. There was only one rule for him: Obtain unlimited power. And he also knew, in his heart, it would inevitably lead him to make another Horcrux.

He _needed_ to create another Horcrux; it would make him feel invulnerable.

However, for that, he would have to wait until he was strong enough.

For now, he would be content to find an object to lodge his soul. And a victim to be up to his standard. Yes, it was important; he was sure this new horcrux would require a death full of meaning, symbolism. 

For that, he was in no hurry.

Finding these two 'things' could take days, months, years. But it matters not: he was a patient man. He had to choose carefully to replace his Diary, his Cup, his Ring, _Nagini..._

How he missed Nagini, his most faithful companion.

He took pleasure in killing the useless Longbottom, remembering what he had done to Nagini. But his supreme pleasure, obtained that very night, had been killing Potter, after so many years, after the Battle of Hogwarts.

He had been afraid that something might go wrong. The Elder Wand’s destruction had been a severe blow to him, but Potter had facilitated all the work later, by throwing himself into a suicide mission that almost worked.

_Almost._

But it was not the time to think about it. First, he needed to get other obstacles out of his way.

He apparated in front of a decrepit building in Glastonbury where his Death Eaters threw the captured pure-blood people who fought alongside the insolent brat, before sending them definitively to Azkaban. He had plans to turn that place into another of the symbols of his regime: a prison that would serve as a halter for those who dared to step outside the rigid line he had stipulated for his pure-blood followers.

It was a symbol of power, as it testified he could imprison even the most powerful wizards in England. And yet, it represented his mercy by not sending the pure-blood straight to Azkaban.

It was perfect.

The doors opened for him and his Death Eaters went out of his way cowardly. He could smell those men’s terror and he reveled in it  
 _How sweet the smell of fear was_ , he thought intoxicated by it.

Some of the Death Eaters who were guarding Glastonbury survived the Battle in the Forbidden Forest and the dark wizard looked over them, analysing, feeling their eagerness to obey.

He stopped his cat-like slits pupils on Draco Malfoy; he had survived in the most hideous way possible: passing out and exempting himself from fighting for his Lord. But he had already paid for his vexing stance and for his successive failures, such as not having killed Dumbledore; Voldemort had to refrain a smile that threatened to break on his face when he remembered how the snob brat begged for his life, writhing in pain.

He watched Malfoy boy's face more carefully; he was more afraid than anyone and exuded it with an intensity that delighted Voldemort. His thin face was marked by purple spots and his eyes had dark circles that attested to his successive sleepless nights. Since his father's death a month ago, Draco had been rightly chosen to atone for his family's sins and failures. And his own.

“Are you sleeping well, Draco? You look so… _worn-out_ , I daresay." He asked softly, giving the word a clear double meaning and feeling the boy tremble under his gaze. "Do you need a vacation? Go away for a little while?" 

His insinuating threat was not lost on the young man, judging by the wariness in his grey, opaque eyes.

Draco looked down submissively, causing the hateful platinum hair that so much resembled his father's to fall on his face.

"I do appreciate the offer, my Lord, but being at your service is the only thing my family and I could wish for." He said in a weak voice and without eye contact, even though he knew how to defend himself from possible attacks on his mind. 

This showed fear and respect, and the Dark Wizard could not help but appreciate the gesture.

The boy had been well trained, he could not deny it.

“I am glad to hear of your devotion." He gave Draco an encouraging pat on the arm and felt how the young man struggled to not recoil in fear. "I have plans for you."

"It will be a true honor, my Lord." Draco bowed deferentially, and as he got up, Voldemort noticed the gleam of something different in his eyes.

Something which, although he could not classify completely what it was, he did not like at all. He needed to remedy that little spark of ... _persistence_?

Yes, he would make an example of young Malfoy. The torture he had inflicted on the boy up to that point would be nothing close to what was to come.

If Malfoy did not bend completely then he would _break_. Voldemort would make sure of that.

“How is your mother, Draco?"

"She’s..." Surprised by the unexpected question, Draco struggled to find a word. "Healthy."

"Let's hope she stays that way, shall we?" Voldemort said deceivably soft. "In such tumultuous times, we have to take extra care of our loved ones. Even more considering that she is the only family you have left.”

If it were possible, the boy had become even paler and Voldemort smiled. “She is, my Lord.”

Voldemort nodded darkly. “You would do well to remember that.”

Then he left the Death Eaters behind, as he turned down dusty corridors and through decrepit doors, with his thoughts still on Draco Malfoy

He wondered how long that fine example of weakness and cowardice would endure. Yes, that would be a good hobby: testing the limits of someone terrified, someone who did not deserve to carry a pure blood and a traditional name.

He diverted his thoughts from Malfoy when a spark of envy crossed his mind. He had to concentrate on what mattered and not on a despicable child like him.

Voldemort stopped at the door of a cell, one of the many that were in the place, thinking again about how to solve all his problems, trim all the edges.

His Death Eaters had put the woman there after her premonitions began to manifest, to please him. He had appreciated that too.

He entered the room, feeling his bare feet hitting a worn and uneven floor.

A woman languished in a bed, sweating due to what he assumed be an overwhelming fever. He knew she had been injured at the Battle of Hogwarts thanks to a bite from Nagini. He could not contain a scornful sigh when he thought that every fool from the Order of the Phoenix had failed to heal her. It was dishonorable for anyone to carry the title of wizard when they could not escape certain situations or create solutions to the most critical problems.

He peered at the figure lying almost motionless on the bed, a draft of the person that once she had been. 

Thick hair stuck to her dirty face, sweat gave her skin a shiny look, and her clothes gave off a putrid smell that displeased his nose. _Smell of failure, of defeat._

Sybill Trelawney was being consumed by Nagini's poison and had been left behind when the Order of the Phoenix had to hastily abandon Hogwarts, captured while trying to be removed from Hogwarts by supporters of the Boy-Who-Not-Lived. Her companions had been killed; she, in turn, had not been so lucky.

He gave one of his rare true smiles, focusing a little more on the woman. She was delusional, saying disconnected things. About Dumbledore, Hogwarts, _Harry._

The wait would be inevitable then; the Death Eater who captured her had said that the harbingers came and went.

He conjured a chair with a very discreet movement of his new wand and sat down to wait. Minutes, hours.

She slept, woke up, raved.

He meditated, speculated, plotted.

It was all a matter of waiting for the right moment.

Until her eyes, already blurred by the fever, widened. The voice that was once fragile and clipped, had become louder, clearer. _Audible._

He got up and walked over to her.

"Sybill, say to me what must be said.” He demanded in his constant, almost gentle voice.

She looked at him without seeing properly.

_“…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...”_

He remained motionless for a moment and deduced that this had been the old prophecy that had intertwined his future with that of Harry Potter.

Voldemort had fought - and had failed - so many times to achieve that prophecy and now it fell into his lap, obediently. But what good was it now? History had already demanded its outcome. He felt a flash of anger again. Had he been requested there because of that? Harry Potter was already dead. Prophecies that predict the past were of no consequence to him.

He waited a few more minutes, but the woman was still saying the same thing. He was wondering if he should put an end to that farce; seeing someone in that state of weakness disgusted and reminded him of a time when he was less than that.

Something he certainly did not want to remember.

Raising his wand, he would give her a quick and desired death. It would not be so effective to torture someone who was already with the mind distorted by the poison.

He knew he did not have to say the words, but he would say them nonetheless, just for the pleasure of feeling them roll over his tongue, the roof of his mouth, his teeth.

But Sybill Trelawney spoke first. And among disconnected words, Voldemort stopped the movement of his wand in the air, as if mesmerized.

_“Neither can live while the other survives... The fruit originated in one has the power of damnation over the other. And everything that carries the fruit of one will be cursed and poisonous to the other..."_

He stopped short.

_Damn it, Harry Potter!_ Damn him even in hell where he should be squirming now.

He thought frantically, circling the room where the wretched woman was still moaning. It seemed quite clear the fruit originated in him - and that it would be poisonous to Harry Potter – were his horcruxes. And everything that came out of them was his soul, broken into several pieces.

Now, regarding the boy... It was all very foggy. _What would be the boy's fruit?_

A resistance composed by his followers? It could only be that.

He thought some more to support the idea. Obviously, the Resistance would be cursed and poisonous to him. But was it so powerful that it could destroy him?

He would not try to find out.

The boy had died, but his idea persisted. And Lord Voldemort knew the power of ideas; he knew that killing ideas was more difficult than killing people...

_…Although they could also be killed in the end._

He raised his head, resolute with what he would have to do from then on: before he tried to divide his soul again, he would end the Resistance - the fruit of Harry Potter - and condemn everything that came out of it, starting with all his friends. Only then he could be strong again, really powerful.

Only then he could create another Horcrux.

He conjured up a small sphere, where he kept the prophecy with the meticulous care characteristic of his actions.

Then, in a quick gesture, he threw the Killing Curse on the woman, impatient with the sound of her weak moans.

He was very close to achieving his goals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for writing too much, I know this chapter got really big, but I needed the story to make these little jumps in time.  
> Your comments are what motivate me to write. Please, don't forget to leave your thoughts on the chapter. It makes my day! Thank you all.


	10. A Mother’s Love

**10 – A Mother’s Love**

_January, 2004._

Ginny was tired. 

She peered out at the window of her new house and realised night had already fallen. It was probably dawn now and she had lost track of time again, pored over the shop's bookkeeping and ingredient lists.

She rubbed her eyes to keep herself awake, but could not contain the audible yawn that escaped her mouth.

She was _really_ tired.

She had worked hard in recent years, incessantly, days and many nights, only stopping when James demanded her attention: in view of the upbringing she had gotten from her parents, she refused to give less to her own son.

This, of course, caused her to strain every nerve to get time to her son _and_ her work – and Ginny did not want think that between one thing and the other, she had ended up relegating herself to the background of her own life.

_It’s ok, really_ , it was her daily mantra. As long as she kept her job and her son safe, everything would be fine. The work made her forget the things her mind insisted on remembering when she was at her leisure.

In recent times, she was managing to reap the rewards of all this hard work. She had a good shop in Diagon Alley and lived in a comfortable house on the outskirts of the wizarding shopping district. Now, in addition to Flynn, she had four more employees handling sales and storing potions. Thus, she could dedicate herself more freely to making potions at the back of her shop - activity that was her favorite by far.

And while maintaining humility was always a recommended practice, she could not deny it: She was _bloody good_ at that.

What drove her to be so deeply distracted was the list of ingredients she was preparing. She realised her need of more Erumpent's horn fluid for the potion that was her expertise, the one that had brought her _money_.

_Erumpent Draught_. Exploding Fluid

She liked the sound of its name and - she could not deny that as well - the effects it caused. It was a highly explosive potion, created from the fluid of the great African animal, which reacted to the slightest awkward movement of those who used it. 

And it was _crushing_. 

Ginny had found a way to enhance the effects of the potion that placed her at the top of the bustling market, which made her known for her skills.

She smiled sadly at the irony that lay in the fact she had started brewing potions for people's self-defense and was now working to potentiate weapons of mass destruction. She rubbed her eyes again, this time to shake off the impractical thoughts.

Ginevra - not Ginny- was playing a dangerous game. She was providing potions to the Ministry _and_ to the Resistance.

It was a clear conflict of interest between the money she earned to guarantee James's future and the safety of those people she loved. It was pretty obvious that the second variable in that equation was more important, but still, she could not give up the stability that money and safety would bring to James.

The solution she found was to make the potions sold to the Ministry more _unstable_ \- without the firepower she could offer - and still good enough to be considered the best available on the market.

The really lethal potions went to her family in the Resistance; that was the only comfort she could give her conscience.

However, she was confident that everything was under control and would be fine if she could continue to dominate that bloody desire to raise her wand and torture the Death Eaters every time James asked about his family, his father. 

She gave a desperate giggle when she realised she was worrying about participating in the Resistance attacks when, in fact, she should have been wondering about the birthday party she was going to give her son, who was about to turn five years old.

She had sworn to herself she would disappear into the world, would never again be involved in that war. Sworn she would take James to a better place, preferably warm and tolerant of minorities. But there she was, sitting in front of her office desk, in the heart of the Wizard London.

Ginny was selfish, she had to admit it. She had developed her manipulative, self-interested and individualistic side and was now there, on the threshold between Voldemort's world and Harry's ideals, not wanting to give up either; neither the stability of the first nor the love for the second.

In this way, she was exposed both to the ire of the Ministry and to the disapproving looks of her friends and family. She knew they did not approve the life she led, no matter how little she saw them. Nor did they understand that, for the same reason she could not reveal James to Voldemort, she also could not let the boy grow up among her family.

And it hurt her.

She had to find a way to protect her life - and James - from herself, to ensure that her help to the Resistance was extremely discreet, since she could not get rid of it. And she could not quite join it neither.

At that thought, Ginny snorted, dropping the quill she was writing with and lowering her head on the table, keeping her forehead pressed against her desk. She tapped her forehead three times against the surface as if the gesture might put some sense in her head. When raised her head though, she saw that a sheet of newspaper had stuck to her face.

"Oy, what the fuck- " She cursed as she put the Daily Prophet’s morning edition away from her forehead. She stopped suddenly when glanced at the photo on the front page. 

She had not seen that pale, pointed face in _years_.  
Draco Malfoy was looking at the camera - at Ginny - and it seemed he was looking _through_ it. The disturbing grey eyes she remembered with alarming clarity became worse over the years; Malfoy must have been on the cusp of twenty-four years old but he looked _older_ , the same impression she had had years ago when she met those eyes...

Now, it was as if his eyes were sending a message " _Nobody helped me and look what I’ve became_ ". He seemed simply indifferent; he smiled clearly out of obligation at the entrance to the Ministry. His hair was much longer, frighteningly reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy, even though it was only chin-length in his case. 

It was the face of someone who had everything, but lost what mattered most.

His peace.

Ginny felt a knot in her stomach when thought she was one of those responsible for leaving him in that situation, for killing his father. She shook her head and leaned against the chair support, looking away from the photo. Sleepiness was starting to make her delirious. It was not reasonable to draw so many conclusions and digress like that through a simple photograph, was it?

Trying not to look at the photo, she read more carefully the headline in the newspaper, which had been lying on her desk since that morning.

**_MINISTRY OF MAGIC GUIDED WITH IRON HANDS._ **

_Changing the trend established in recent years, the Ministry of Magic has clearly adopted an unrelenting policy to combat militias that are emerging in isolated outbreaks across Britain. The rebels, self-styled_ 'Resistance', _have carried out attacks in various parts of the country and put the order of the society at risk._

_In combating this insurgency, the Minister for Magic, Pius Thicknesse, has surrounded himself with energetic and notably unyielding people in the fight against the troublemakers - possibly heirs of the anarchist ideals of Harry Potter,_ Undesirable No. 1, _guilty of the death of Albus Dumbledore and deceased for unknown causes since his mob's attack on Hogwarts in six years ago. The attack - an unsuccessful attempt to seize power - caused dozens of deaths and marked the triumph of the law and order in the Wizarding World._

“We gave people who supported wrong causes a chance to redeem themselves from their past actions and get on with their lives. However, they preferred to practice a series of atrocities that threatened the lives of good and honest wizards.”, _affirmed the Minister at the departure of the Ministry, this morning._

_The clearest example of this more energetic stance by the Ministry is the appointment of Draco Malfoy, heir of two of the most traditional families in the Wizarding World, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, responsible for controlling the magical world in Britain. The first actions from the newly-appointed were the compulsory confiscation of the wands of suspicious people, unrestricted control of the transportation’s facilities and encouragement of the disclosure of information about the Resistance, in exchange for the Ministry's substantial rewards._

"In recent years, out of respect for the democratic divergences to which any political regime is subject to, the Ministry of Magic has acted mildly in the fight against Resistance, even though the rebels have never been open to dialogue.” _Said Draco Malfoy in his only statement on his appointment._ “This is now over. I want everyone to know, everywhere in England: there will be no more indulgence for those who do not follow the order. Traitors who perpetrates the riots will be dealt with an iron hand. I will hunt them down wherever they are holed up.” 

_Malfoy, surrounded by a tragic family history, took over the family business after his father's death from injuries at the Battle of Hogwarts, when he fought bravely to protect wizards from Harry Potter's boundless ambition._

_Interestingly, after Lucius Malfoy death, Narcissa Black Malfoy was considered to be emotionally unstable and sent to an intensive care area at St. Mungo’s Hospital, where she remains until present days. In spite of his dramatic background, the Malfoy heir has been increasing his prestige and gaining more and more political space._

_However, would the young Draco Malfoy be ready to take on such a great responsibility? Only time will tell._

Ginny threw the newspaper violently into the wastebasket. _How could they write so many lies?_ , She thought in disgust. _Harry killing Dumbledore? Lucius Malfoy dying because he had tried to protect someone? Ministry going easy on the Resistance?_ Ginny snorted, knowing how relentless - though relatively discreet - its search for the Resistance had been in recent years.

Voldemort was indeed infiltrated in all media.

And now this one, from Draco Malfoy! _Bloody ferret!_

She snorted again and her thoughts turned involuntarily to Draco Malfoy: she supposed he should have somehow regained his family's prestige and, against all the prognosis of the Universe, the supposition made her feel a little calmer; the thought of being responsible for his downfall in front of Voldemort was unsettling.

Suddenly, she craved a glass of firewhisky and her bed. She did not like thinking about Draco Malfoy.

With a flick of her wand, she began to arrange the objects on the desk and turned her attention to Harry's mokeskin pouch she used to carry with her.

She had taken it off to make potions and was about to put it around her neck again as was her habit - just like it was Harry's - but this time she hesitated.

Ginny never stopped to think carefully about the pouch, nor did she understand why she still carried it, knowing she could never hand it over to its rightful owner.

_Its rightful owner..._

Ginny almost fell off her chair when an idea hit her and her body jerked up in surprise. For a moment she forgot the Ministry, political intrigues, Draco Malfoy and The Daily Prophet. The new idea hammered violently in her head.

_Could it be true?_

Harry handed the pouch over to _her_. Harry _gave_ the pouch to her. Truth be told, it should not matter if he would return to take it back or no. It should only matter the fact that he handed it over _willingly_ to her.

She ran a hand over her face, feeling her mouth go dry. She already knew what was in the bag, there was no mystery in that; what put her on the verge of a nervous breakdown was getting back in touch with the past, with Harry.

She was afraid of how she would react, how it would influence her.

Clearing her mind and concentrating on testing her theory, she tugged lightly on the cord closing the pouch so fiercely for those who did not own it.

And then the cord gave way, as if it were its duty. She felt stupid for not having tried it in those years that she had the pouch, but, above all, she felt unsure.

_I can’t be so tormented by the past_ , she thought supporting her face in her hands. Then she decided it was past time to bury her ghosts and, even though she could not do a bloody thing about the shadow she saw in Malfoy's eyes, she could begin getting rid of the Harry Potter phantom, starting with the pouch that represented him…

"Idiot, idiot." She berated herself when realised she had put Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in the same context. It was like putting heaven and hell in a sentence that made sense.

Shaking her head, she concentrated on the task she had set out to accomplish. Starting to take the objects out of the pouch with more vigor than necessary, she saw the Marauder's Map, Sirius' mirror, a medallion with the strange inscription R.A.B, Harry's broken wand and, to her surprise, she took out of the pouch five tiny vials containing that enigmatic substance she remembered seeing that night she spent with Harry in the Hufflepuff basement.

And then, as though the understanding of the situation had been brought to her with an unexpected blow, she knew immediately what it was. She had not made the correct assumption the first and last time she had seen the vials, but now she could see everything with the clarity of the sun.

_Memories_.

She felt the itch of curiosity eating through her veins. _Why would Harry take away some of his memories?_

Ginny searched her office for half an hour until she found what was looking for: She knew that Della would not get rid of a rare object so easily; the house-elf was attached to family’s traditions, even though Ginny's small family - consisting of James and her - had none. She took the Pensieve to the center of the desk and poured the silver contents of one of the vials inside.

She leaned over the stone basin, hesitating slightly when she was about to touch her face to the surface, which moved like water being hit by the wind. Did she really want to see what Harry had wanted to hide?

_To hell with modesty! Yes, she did!_

Ginny pressed her face to the surface and felt the slight sensation of being swallowed into a new world; before that, she knew how it worked only in theory. And suddenly, she regretted doing it.

She began falling down, swirling dizzily, and in the next instant she was among Death Eaters, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. The scene was strange. On one side Harry had fallen, with his arm at a weird angle, apparently unconscious, and on the other, Voldemort, also fallen, surrounded by Death Eaters who seemed to be asking incessantly about the dark wizard's condition.

Apparently, Voldemort repulsed them sharply, as they began to walk away in embarrassment like the cockroach they were, with the exception of Bellatrix Lestrange, who knelt beside Voldemort. Ginny felt slightly nauseous at the scene.

She did not want to know what they were talking about so she decided to approach Harry. Seeing him like that, defeated and dirty, broke her heart. But it was short lived because she noticed Harry had opened an eye discreetly to spy on the situation around him just as James did when he wanted to know if she was still in the room, watching over his sleep. She held back a chuckle despite the memory grim atmosphere.

Then, she heard Voldemort’s voice rise, demanding someone to check Harry out, to make sure he was truly dead. This time, Ginny truly laughed, knowing how disappointed he would be by the outcome.

However, she did not have time to appreciate Voldemort’s worried countenance because Narcissa Malfoy was approaching Harry somewhat reluctantly. Ginny walked with her side by side wondering what evil things that woman could have done to Harry, so that he no longer wanted that memory.

Narcissa knelt beside Harry and touched his face softly, then his heart. Ginny knelt down too, on the opposite side to what Narcissa Malfoy occupied, face to face with the woman and with Harry's body in the middle of them. Ginny saw Narcissa lean over him, as if to confirm that he was still breathing; her mouth almost touched Harry's forehead, which in turn remained as still as a stone. The woman's long, pale blond hair shielded Harry's face from the onlookers and it was with some effort that Ginny could hear her whispering something.

"Is Draco alive? Is he at the castle?”

"Yes." Harry's answer came as whispered as her question.

Ginny saw Narcissa's body visibly relaxing when she heard his answer. The older witch turned to the audience who had gathered in the clearing, returning to her haughty way.

"He is dead!" She said firmly, with clenched fists at her sides.

The memory faded around Ginny, giving way to reality; she staggered to the side, having to lean on the desk for support. She was perplexed. No, to call it perplexity was to ease the situation too much; she was absolutely _flabbergasted._ Narcissa Malfoy had betrayed Voldemort. She had betrayed her sister and her family. She had betrayed her husband's ideals - and her own. 

And then the reason for all of that struck Ginny like lightning: Narcissa had lied because she knew this was the only chance she had to go back to the castle, she had lied to look for her son. She had put a bounty on her head for Draco Malfoy.

Feeling no control over her emotions, Ginny felt a wave of sympathy towards Narcissa Malfoy invading her body. _Would not she have done the same thing for James?_

She thought that, in essence, Mrs. Malfoy was not so different from Molly Weasley. She was not so different from Ginny herself.

She took a deep breath and tried to think rationally one more time. There was no apparent reason why Harry should have deprived himself from that memory. Ginny carefully removed the current content from the Pensieve and, with no false modesty, place a new memory in the basin. She dove her face into it without reservations this time and felt again the feeling of falling indefinitely, but this time her feet landed graciously on the ground.

There were planks closing the windows, the air was damp and a bad smell permeated the room. She inspected the place and found it strange that she was alone. Harry should be somewhere around there, certainly – it was his memory, after all. Ginny did not have time to make any more theories when a hooded figure entered the room. It stood at a door so camouflaged that Ginny had not noticed it before.

There was an obvious tension in the air and then the figure - notably a woman - lowered the hood: It was Narcissa Malfoy, looking extremely tired.

"It's me." She murmured under her breath.

In the next instant, Harry had materialised in the room, taking off the invisibility cloak.

"Did someone follow you?"

“Of course not, Potter." Narcissa answered objectively. “They’re too worried licking their own wounds to bother with my whereabouts. The Battle at Hogwarts caused us a lot of damage.”

Ginny located herself temporarily. That memory was of something that had happened between the Battle of Hogwarts and the attack in the Forbidden Forest. She wished to go a little deeper into the complexity of that woman, who still referred to Voldemort's side as 'us' while betraying his cause without the slightest hesitation.

"It didn't have a very happy result for my friends, either." Harry pointed out the fact with evident hurt in his voice. "And your husband?"

"Lucius is very busy trying to regain credibility with the Dark Lord, between one torture and another." She commented coldly and Ginny felt anger spill over at her words. "I still haven't been asked why I haven’t _perceived_ you were alive at the forest, but soon enough they'll come for me, if something very drastic doesn't happen before it."

“And you came here to ask for something in return, for not ratting on I was alive." Harry was adamant in his reasoning.

To Ginny's surprise, Narcissa gave a small sarcastic smile before answering. "If so, your Gryffindor honor would compel you to fulfill my wish." Harry was immediately tense as she continued. “But I came here for another reason: I want to offer you a deal. I can give you information about the Dark Lord's movements, so that you will not attack him blindly.”

"And why would you do that?" Harry seemed a little confused this time.

“I have my reasons, Potter. And they certainly do not concern you. Just be sure that I’ll keep my word.” She headed for the door, apparently with nothing more to say.

"Forgive me if I find your word a very fragile guarantee." Harry replied.

“It’s the only thing you will get from me. Do we have a deal?" Narcissa waited for an answer and Harry gave a hesitant nod. “We shall continue to use this enchanted galleon to communicate. It’s a very ingenious idea, in fact.” And she left without even looking back, her robe flowing behind her.

And the memory faded, leaving Ginny's mind with one last image of Harry's face looking confused.

In the next moment, she was back in her office, more disturbed than she had been in years. She finally knew where Harry was going during his escapades from Hogwarts after the battle and who the source of his information was.

_Narcissa Malfoy._

How many more surprises could that haughty woman cause?

Ginny chose another memory, noticing absently that her hand was shaking. She stopped again at Shrieking Shack. Her landings were getting better and better - she had stopped right next to Harry this time, who was waiting something – or someone-, sitting in an old chair and looking restless. His tousled hair fell over his glasses and he occasionally blew the strands away from his lenses. His expression softened when Narcissa entered the room.

"You took too long," said Harry, sounding worried. "I thought something had happened."

A hint of a smile formed on Narcissa's beautiful lips. 

"I appreciate your concern and I know that it was certainly caused only by the doubt of whether I would bring what you asked for." Harry blushed, knowing that Narcissa had realised that he had cared about her safety and had failed to hide it. “There’s no reason for that. I brought your list. It contains the name of every Death Eater who will guard the Dark Lord tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure it will be just these Death Eaters?" Harry asked while reading the names written in the older witch's refined handwriting.

Narcissa looked a little annoyed. “The Dark Lord cannot use all his strength yet. And if your attack is really a surprise, as you want to make me believe, there will be no problem. He needs the Death Eaters in London to continue to control the Ministry and the transportation facilities.” She softened her voice. "Yes, Potter, I'm sure."

"The attack will be tomorrow." Harry uttered, attesting the obvious.

Narcissa was uncomfortable, as if something very bad to swallow was put in her mouth.

"I would like-" She started, correcting herself in the sequence. “I _demand_ you to commit to my payment for helping you out. It’s possible, not to say desirable, that this is our last meeting; therefore, I want to make clear my wish that Draco and Lucius be spared.”

"But their names aren’t on the list." Harry had responded rather casually in Ginny's opinion. "There’s no reason for you to worry."

"Once you asked me my reasons for doing this and now I'm giving them to you" Narcissa replied exhaling cold exasperation. “Draco and Lucius are the only reasons for me to wake up in the morning, the only reasons for me to _breathe_. I want this to end in the best way for my family and, with the Dark Lord alive, it cannot happen. Draco will not be free and Lucius will be constantly tormented. If the Dark Lord lives, my family will inevitably be destroyed. Lucius' failures to capture you have caused the Lord's wrath to fall upon us.”

“I’m sorry-” Harry murmured, even though nothing of that was his fault.

“Stop it.” Narcissa hissed. “I don’t need your pity.”

Harry flinched slightly, looking a little uncomfortable, and she resumed talking with difficulty, as if each word killed some of her proud countenance.

“If the Dark Lord dies, we might have a chance to return to our lives, even if we have to answer for some of our actions. So even if Draco and Lucius aren’t on the list, I do worry, Potter. And I want them to be spared, in every way possible.”

Harry was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Mrs. Malfoy, I can’t guarantee that your husband and son will be free if I manage to destroy You-Know-Who, but I give my word that I’ll do my best to make them _safe_.”

"I just want them to come out of this war alive and ready to start over." She got up from the decrepit chair she was sitting on, clenched fists in display. "If this means that Muggle-Lovers and Half-Bloods will corrupt our society with their ideals, so be it. I could not care less." She lifted her nose in the air slightly. "It’s a very small price to pay."

And she headed for the door, on a path that Ginny knew she had done many times in that month.

“Mrs. Malfoy…?” Harry murmured and the green eyes met the blue ones. He hesitated an instant before speaking again. "Thank you."

Ginny felt a silent understanding between the two, before the witch turned silent and left the room.

In the next moment, Ginny was back in her office again, more emotionally shaken than she would have expected to be.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

For the next few hours, Ginny wandered between Harry's remaining memories of encounters with Narcissa Malfoy, where they planned the best way to carry out the task of ending that war.

She felt a mixture of conflicting feelings for the woman: surprise, admiration, empathy, commiseration. 

Narcissa Malfoy had always been the key to the problem: She was Harry’s source of information, which had always intrigued Ginny. It was Narcissa who, in a way, had saved Harry's life and given the Resistance survival at Hogwarts. Ginny did not want to think that woman was languishing at St. Mungo’s at the time.

It had been because of her that Harry had gone into shock when Neville killed Lucius Malfoy. Now Ginny knew why the Malfoys were not supposed to be in the Forbidden Forest that night and, most importantly, why Harry had been so upset by the fact that they were there.

And it was because of her that Harry had deprived himself of those memories. He was trying to protect her in case he was caught, just as she had done to him.

With the back of her hand, Ginny wiped away a tear that she did not even noticed she had shed.

Ginny put the vials back in the mokeskin pouch with a little reverence this time. She would keep those memories closely guarded and safe.

A sixth sense told her they might be necessary in the near future.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

Draco was tired.

But even with the tiredness that came over him after another exhausting day at the Ministry, he forced himself to maintain his upright and haughty posture, seating in an uncomfortable chair, so that it never showed how he really felt. So that no apparent weakness would ever be used against him.

Even at times when there were no enemies around like now, Draco could not afford making mistakes, so he kept his guard every bloody second he was awake.

He was _really_ tired.

But it was the least he could do for her.

Draco looked at the thin, apparently fragile body that lay on the bed in the aseptic room - thinking about what he could do to make the environment less sterile.

He had never liked hospitals - as it turned out, they were full of the two things Draco despised the most, misery and hope-, but he forced himself to go to St. Mungo’s periodically.

It was almost a ritual. Usually at night, where his visits - and their conversations - would not attract as much attention.

Like so many other nights in recent years, he watched over his mother's sleep, enjoying the little peace he could provide her, even in such fleeting moments.

Because when she slept like that, it meant his mother was safe.

As if she felt his intent gaze on her - and she usually had that strange power - Narcissa's eyes fluttered open.

If she did not approve of his peculiar habit of watching over her sleep - even though he found the custom comforting - Narcissa never said anything in the matter.

“Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Mother.” He said quietly after a moment. “How are you?”

Narcissa sat on the bed, resting her back on the wall behind her and refrained a yawn. “It’s hardly time to a social visit.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time left to do as I please.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “And this visit it’s hardly social neither.”

"I suppose it’s not." Narcissa nodded conceding his point. "Perhaps a visit to a convalescent person is a more appropriate definition."

_Okay, it’s one of those days when she’s not cooperating. How lovely._

“I meant that it’s not a social visit because I don't do it out of obligation." Draco restrained the urge to roll his eyes at his mother. Scoff at her would never be the wisest choice for him. “And you’re not convalescing because you’re not _sick_.” 

Draco practically sneered at the word and Narcissa raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Is that so?” Narcissa questioned pretending to be intrigued. “I had the impression I was, given that I am confined to this hospital.”

Draco struggled not to let his exasperation show, but it was fruitless. His mother, after all, was the person who knew him best. Hiding his feelings from her was pointless and tiresome.

Since his father had died, it seemed that there was a barrier between his mother and him, practically insurmountable, that only was becoming thicker and more solid over the years.

Draco ran his hands through his hair and sighed tiredly. “Mother, you know very well we can’t take any chances until you get better.”

“I understand why I’m unable to come and go whenever I feel like doing it, Draco. As well as why it’s inadvisable for me to be alone.” Narcissa made a dismissive gesture with a pale hand. "I do know my mind has not been very reliable in recent years."

"So, we're on the same page." Draco stated at the limit of his self-restraint, wanting to put an end to that subject once for all. "I don't understand why we always need to have the same conversation.”

“Because being aware of all this doesn’t mean that I have to _appreciate_ it.” Narcissa affirmed a little more impatient than usual. “I might as well be at home, not in this horrendous hospital.” 

“And being subjected to scrutiny of the other Death Eaters and their wives? I cannot be with you all the time, Mother. It’s the only way I have to protect you.”

_You’re the only thing I have left._

_I’ve already lost too much._

_I cannot bear losing you too._

“Please, don’t patronize me.” Narcissa scolded him. “I’m well aware of what is at stake here.”

“Then work with me, please.” Draco pleaded to his mother's less stubborn side. “We need to be sure you will have no memory lapses and say things that should not be said. Here, at least, you will always have an excuse for any eccentric behavior.”

“I’m not crazy, Draco.” Narcissa replied coldly.

“I never say you were.” Draco tried to sound cold as well but was undoubtedly becoming angrier by the second. “I’m only saying you’re mourning for years. And the pain has dulled your senses and it has consumed you.”

"It has, indeed." Narcissa agreed effortlessly, ignoring his restlessness. “But now I feel I’m getting better. I _know_ I’m getting better. I just wanted you to trust what I say.”

He was so fucking tired of that conversation. So, fucking tired of being the bad guy for taking responsibilities, for doing things no one else were willing to do.

He was practically the Head of the Ministry, had recovered his family's esteem, saved their name. And yet, that was not enough.

He had never been good enough.

He had never been good enough to Voldemort, who would always look at him with that underlying hint of contempt for Draco’s past sins.

He had never been enough to his father, who preferred to attack the Weasley girl instead of listening to him and avoiding all that tragedy.

He had not been good enough for that specific girl either, always below her high standards of morality - despite what she had claimed that very night, so many years ago.

And he had not been good enough for his mother who chose to seek Scarhead for help instead of entrusting her plans to Draco.

He could not take it anymore.

"I _have_ trusted what you said once, Mother." Draco finally snapped at the limit of his patience to make his mother understand that everything he did had the sole purpose of protecting her. “And what good did that do? Father is dead because of it.”

“Draco Malfoy!” It was the closest to a shriek he had ever heard coming out of his mother's mouth, but the words - they had _never_ been his friends - continued to pouring out of him in an uncontrollable torrent.

“Because _you_ believed bloody Harry Potter could help us when that moronic fool couldn’t even help himself!”

That was why Draco had learned - the hard way, after many years – to never talk too much.

Once he started, there was no going back.

He regretted his outburst, one of the rare ones, the second the last words were spoken in his most poisonous - painful - tone.

Narcissa's only reaction was inhale through gritted teeth.

Draco supposed that if he had slapped his mother in the face the effect would not have been so devastating.

“ _Je suis désolé, maman._ " He said desperately, unconsciously returning to his father's family language, which he always did in his most vulnerable moments. “I didn’t-“

Narcissa raised her hand and the authoritarian gesture was enough to stop him short.

“I believe it's quite late. You will probably have a very busy day tomorrow at the Ministry and I would like to rest now.” Narcissa said while removing an invisible dust from her nightgown as if the whole conversation bored her to the death. “You may leave now.”

“Mother, please-“

“Good night, Draco.” 

Draco sighed tiredly again and headed for the door knowing that this was a battle he would never win. One that he did not deserve to win.

“For all it’s worth, I’m truly sorry I said that.” He said and waited a few seconds an answer that did not come.

He had practically closed the door behind him when he heard Narcissa's murmur. "It’s not good enough, Draco."

Draco turned to leave with a bitter taste in his mouth and his heart broken in ways he was not sure he would ever be able to recover one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, consider that your comments make ALL the difference in the world for those who write. It's a kindness that costs very little, in exchange for a fun time you get at no cost.  
> To those who comment, thank you very much!


	11. The Beginning of Their Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My little Christmas gift for those who follow this story! Draco and Ginny FINALLY meet again haha!Yeeey!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I hope you can feel the same way while reading it!

**11 – The Beginning of Their Story**

_March, 2005._

Ginevra of Woodcroft wandered naturally among the customers of her shop, providing help, offers and, often, just cordial small talk.

“Maybe you should take one of these, Mr. Wilson.” She pointed to a specific potion vial, showing it to a customer. “It’s ideal for ward off night invaders.”

"Is that so, Mrs. Woodcroft?" The grey-haired customer asked, scratching his chin slightly in doubt. “I really don’t see why I’d need it.”

“I’m sure you do, safety for your family in the first place!" Ginny said with an expression of almost maternal concern. "How is it possible to sleep peacefully with the suspicion that someone can sneak into your home at any time? Haven’t your neighborhood been through a situation like this last week?”

Her years as a salesperson made her understand she had an involuntary influence on clients. Even dressed modestly, she admitted that her youthful and flashy appearance, coupled with a witty attitude, were often factors that made them feel more comfortable, even if they did not even realise it.

“Oh, you're right, as always. I won’t lose another night's sleep and my house is going to be protected.” The man said excitedly. “By the way, speaking about my family, Sarah demands you to be at our house for dinner next Saturday, said she won’t accept refusals this time. It’ll be good for our children to finally get to know each other, after all. How old is your little boy?”

“It’ll be my pleasure, Mr. Wilson! It’d be great to visit your wife and kids.” Ginny’s smile was radiant while she blatantly lied. She had no intention of going to that dinner whatsoever. 

Exposing James was an idea that almost panicked her. With each passing day, he resembled more a miniature version of Harry Potter. Ginny supposed that her son's lighter hair was not enough to remove the resemblance to his father. 

"James has turned six last month."

Mr. Wilson put his hand on her shoulder, gently. "May we set a time then?"

Ginny was saved from an immediate response when Flynn snuck up, elegantly dressed in his new uniform. “Mrs. Woodcroft, your presence is being requested urgently upstairs, in your office.”

In order to escape the kind but inconvenient invitation, Ginny would have had tea with Pansy Parkinson. For obvious reasons, she had become anti-social and extremely reclusive in the years that passed.

Still, she smiled kindly at Mr. Wilson.

“Give me a couple of minutes, will you? The shop’s bureaucracy consumes almost all of my time. I'll be back as soon as I can.” She gave him a gentle wink and hurried off upstairs, Flynn at her heels.

She did not dare waiting for the older man's reply.

"I’d thank you for rescuing me from an awkward situation, Flynn, but first I have to know who you let into my office without my permission, just to make sure you really deserve my gratitude." Ginny said half serious, half joking.

"I wouldn’t know, ma’am." The young man answered devastated. “I went to your office with James to get the list of orders for this week and two men were there demanding to see you. I didn't want to call you, I said you were busy, but one of them threatened me to shove a Ton-Tongue Toffee up in a hole where there’s no tongue at all. I thought it was very rude, if you ask me, but then I went down and called you because I don't know the effect that a Ton-Tongue Toffee would have on a place like _that_.” He completed, alarmed.

"Did you leave James alone with two strangers!?" Ginny was almost shouting, but then she took Flynn's sentence completely; the young man, in turn, shrank visibly. Only after a few seconds the logic took the place of her bad temper. "Did you say Ton-Tongue Toffee?"

"Yes. They’re horrible, as you know.”

_George_. And probably another acquaintance of hers. Ginny became calm again.

“I got it, Flynn. I can handle these guys with the wand in my left hand.” Ginny was smiling again. “Go back to the shop and help with the customers. This might take a while.” When Flynn was already turning around, she completed. “And the next time you leave my son alone with strangers, I’ll use all my stock of Ton-Tongue Toffee on you myself."

She entered the office and closed the door, casting a Muffliato Charm around her. In those days, one could not be too careful.

There were two hooded men in the room; one looked incessantly out the window, as if he were being hunted - as he really must have been - while the other was throwing a smiling James in the air. When they saw her, they stopped where they were. The one with James placed the boy on the floor and lowered his hood, revealing stark red hair and a lack of an ear. 

_George indeed._

“Mum! This man brought me many sweets as a gift. He said I'm almost a man, so I can have my own broom soon!” The boy said happily, inflating his little chest with pride. He turned to George. "Can you teach me how to fly?"

Ginny felt her heart sink and not for the first time she wanted to drop everything and go back to her family. Depriving James of contact with his uncles was one of the things that hurt most. More than ever, she felt powerless and frustrated.

"You bet! I’m the best Beater ever and I’m sure you’re going to be a great one too.” George grinned mischievously at the boy. “I can even see you taking down all Slytherins with deadly strokes.” 

"I want to be a Seeker!" James pouted.

"You can be whatever you want, my love." Ginny came over, stroking the boy's head. "Why don't you ask Flynn for your Quidditch sticker album?” She asked pointing to George with a nod. “To show him?" 

“Yes! You wait for me?" He asked George, who nodded still smiling. Then, James seemed to remember something important. "Err, I don't know your name."

“My name is Geo-” George started saying.

“His name is Geo ... ffrey! That's it, _Geoffrey_!” Ginny interrupted awkwardly. "Now go look for your album with Flynn."

The boy hurried out, not without first looking back and making sure that George had not apparated or run away. When he was sure George was still in place, he ran out the door.

“ _Geoffrey_?! Didn't you have something better in mind?” George said as soon as the boy left them alone. "I always thought I had a knack for Bradley, or something that sounds like, ' _I'm cute, aren't I_?'"

"It was the best I could come up with." Ginny winced at her latent lack of creativity. “Your visits are becoming more and more frequent. James is going to need a name to associate with your image. Preferably, names that aren’t the real ones.”

"Strange to hear you want him to make any association with us." The man at the window spoke for the first time, lowering his hood. Ron seemed older, even though he was just 25 years old. And more tired. Of all her brothers, he was the one she saw least often. The sarcastic tone in his voice also did not match the brother who was once the closest to Ginny. "He's looking more and more like Harry."

“I missed you too, Ronald. And yes, I could already notice the similarity between father and son. It’s the power of genetics, they say.” Ginny said pointedly, collapsing in her favorite chair. "Why did you come?"

“George probably came to see the boy. I just came to get more Erumpent Draught. Our stock has run out.”

Ginny felt her temper rising by the second. “Don't you _dare_ imply that you don't care about James, Ronald Weasley! Don't pretend that he means nothing to you! He's your nephew! I’ll be happy to make you understand this with a spell, if I must.” She threatened with a raised finger pointed at Ron and the other hand on her waist.

Ron's ears turned bright red and Ginny guessed that her appearance would not be much different, but she was already fed up with Ron's attitude towards James.

"You didn't want him to be part of our family! You took the boy away from us!" Ron replied in the same tone. "You took him away _from Harry!_ "

The two of them got up at the same time, ready to remember the bellicose old times of their childhood.

" _Oh oh._ Which one of you do I have to stun first?” George had placed himself between them, turning his wand between his fingers carelessly, sometimes pointing at Ginny, sometimes at Ron. “Maybe you, Ginny? It’d be nice to give Ron a chance to escape here unscathed.” He said never losing the smile on his face.

Ginny regained some self-control; Ron had never accepted the fact that she _had_ to take James away from the war. He never understood that she took the boy away from what Harry's image represented, not from his father.

“It’s not necessary, George. It’s not yet time to settle my score with Ron.” Ginny said while Ron, for his part, gave her his dirtiest look.

"Can’t wait." He replied while sitting with his arms crossed and the same pout James had just shown. In another situation, Ron's attitude would have triggered a laugh in Ginny, but she was still too annoyed to be influenced by the fun of his gesture.

"How much potion do you need?" Ginny asked finally defeated by George's threat.

“As much as you can provide. And maybe a little more. We have more people and are planning a bigger offensive against Malfoy and the Ministry.” Ron seemed to come out of his tantrum. “That twitchy little ferret has been trying to crack down on rebels since he took over as one of the Heads of the Ministry last year. But we’re finally going to give him our business card.”

Ginny thought for a moment before answering. "I need time. The Erumpent Draught you use is much more robust than the one I make to the Ministry so it takes much longer to be made."

Ron and George visibly frowned at the fact that Ginny did supply potions to the Ministry. Potions that would be used against _them_. 

Ginny noticed the distinct change in their mood. 

“And don't pull that face at me, you two! I have explained a thousand times that I need to support myself in some way and the Ministry’s quite a client. Besides, the potion I _sell_ to them is much weaker than the one I _give_ to you.” She stressed the contrast between the verbs ‘sell’ and ‘give.’

"It doesn't change the fact they use your potions against us." Ron insisted.

"You know better than anyone else how to cancel the effects of the potions before it explodes!” Ginny was exasperated by the thousandth time she discussed it, with different relatives and friends. “I’ve already passed the recommendations on how to do it!" 

The agreement reached between Ginny and the Resistance was that some potions used by the Ministry must achieve its purpose, exploding as expected, even if it did not really hurt anyone.

“This discussion again isn’t going to get us anywhere. Ginny’s more stubborn than an ogre with a headache and we have a portkey to grasp in a few minutes in the Muggle part of London.” George said, clicking his tongue to express his disapproval. "How much time do you need?"

“I have a delivery to the Ministry in two days. To make the time I need, I can postpone it and use the potions I’d deliver to them as a raw material for your potions.” Ginny responded confidently.

"Won't that get you in trouble?" George was suddenly concerned.

"I'm relatively safe, George." _At least I think I am_. “I have some credit with the Ministry and I’ve already established myself within wizarding society as a promising widowed merchant. I don't think we have anything to worry about.” She smiled not sure if it had convinced her brother.

Ron stood up, not waiting for George's answer. “I think we're settled, then. Within two days, send the potions to this address.” He handed her a note with some scribbled coordinates. “Use a fake name - _another fake name_ \- and send us everything you can. We'll take it at dawn.”

She nodded thoughtfully, noticing the poison in his words regarding her false identity. Then George hugged her for a long time.

“Take care of that boy. He has potential.” He said close to her ear. "I'll be back to see you as soon as I can."

Ron approached her hesitantly. “Hn, take care, Ginny. It’d be terrible if we had to come and save you from trouble.” He stumbled over the words and she thought of a way to use a Cruciatus Curse on Ron without drawing the Ministry’s attention.

However, she preferred to swallow the insult that was on the tip of her tongue and ask about their family. “How are Mom and Dad? And Bill? Hermione? I could talk to them and-”

“They're all fine, Gingin.” George interrupted her gently. “And no, you know you can't talk to them. If you made your choices, you have to go ahead with them. Taking a look at them would expose us and you too, more than necessary.” He completed and Ginny could feel the sadness in his voice.

In the next moment, her siblings lifted their hoods, held hands and disappeared from the room, leaving behind only the peculiar apparition’s noise.

Ginny sat in the armchair and put her face in her hands, already beginning to feel her body being eroded by the almost unbearable longing that accompanied her.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

The Woodcroft Potions Shop was particularly busy that morning.

Two days prior, the Resistance had stroke boldly, targeting one of the Ministry of Magic's support points - using a highly explosive mysterious potion - and brutally killing seven Aurors in the process.

People reacted differently to the case. They knew the Ministry was the prevailing authority, but, on the other hand, they also knew it was in the hands of dark wizards, who dictated the context of tension and terror in which people have lived in recent years.

They were in an extreme situation where they cheered fervently on one side, but could not abdicate their lives, which depended on the other.

Ginny was very fond of this kind of reaction.

Then, the solution found by ordinary people was arming themselves to the teeth with artifacts for safety, either against the Resistance or against the Ministry, which made Ginny’s vaults at Gringotts become a little more stuffed.

And she was very fond of this kind of reaction _as well_.

Ginny circulated through her shop indicating potions, making jokes, pretending to blush when getting a bolder compliment from men, sharing votes for a safer world with women, playfully threatening children who dared to get too close to the dangerous shelves.

If longing for her family prevented her from being totally happy, Ginny found some comfort in working. And in James.

Something inside her was certainly _not_ satisfied with that, but she insisted on ignoring it just as she used earmuffs to ignore mandrakes. And since she did not have earmuffs to deal with that annoying small inner voice that said she needed to live and not _pretend_ to live, she threw herself into work.

She was busy cataloging the remaining potions on a shelf when a small commotion took over her shop entrance. Three men whom Ginny recognised as Ministry Aurors entered the shop, searching with their eyes for possible sources of danger.

That scene had occurred many times in the past few months to make her afraid. She remembered, in the first few times, she had been petrified, afraid of having been discovered by the Ministry, imagining a thousand ways to escape her shop, catch James and run away like a crazy woman. 

But not anymore.

As expected, people started to disperse, go out to other shops in the Diagon Alley with less gloomy surroundings. That should have irritated Ginny - and she was really irritated - but by the fact that _it_ was not the cause of her irritation. Before her head collapsed from illogical thinking, she tried to keep some customers with their minds occupied, away from the attention aroused by the Aurors.

She knew there was nothing to worry about. At least for people who had nothing to hide.

It was just _him_ coming.

She refrained a cold sensation threatening to run down her spine. Certainly, it was duo to her fear of exposing herself. Fear of her past.

Two Aurors were positioned at the doorframe of her shop and another one left the store - probably to guard the illustrious and undesirable visitor's.

She turned around, trying to focus on the young woman - apparently about 17 years old-, who wanted to buy a Ginny's exclusive self-defense potion, which caused the victim's eyes to burn.

"My dad is going to be more relaxed if I carry one of these on my robe." The young woman said as she shook a vial slightly. "Who knows, he might stop nagging me about my schedule."

“Your father is right to be concerned. We’re not living in a peaceful time.” Ginny smiled to soften the truth of her words. "Besides, parents are like that." Then she sighed, depressed at the fact she used that expression much more disparagingly before conceiving James.

"Oh yes, I’m sure-" The young woman interrupted what she was going to say when the doorbell over the door indicated a new customer coming into the store. She fixed her gaze somewhere over Ginny's shoulder. “I don't know why to worry though, if we have someone like _that_ to protect us from the rebels." She added with an extremely malicious smile on her face.

Even though Ginny knew whom the girl was referring to, she turned to see what had caught the girl's attention, but did not have time to complete the movement discreetly. 

Draco Malfoy was already beside her, with three Aurors surrounding him. Ginny tensed by their presence, but Malfoy dismissed the Aurors with a derisive gesture of his gloved hand.

"I shall not need you in here." The three left without another word as he turned to Ginny. "Mrs. Woodcroft, it's _always_ a pleasure to see you." He said with chilly cordiality, not appearing to be particularly happy to see her. The grey eyes seemed to register everything around him, except for the girl in front of Ginny, who looked at him with admiration.

What would seem like a compliment or a gallantry in the mouth of normal people, in Draco Malfoy's mouth came out as cold courtesies, loaded with disdain for the world and his interlocutor.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy." Ginny had to train in the mirror for days until she was able to use formalities with Malfoy without wrinkling her freckled, upturned nose. "And it’s _always_ a pleasure to receive your visits."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and a faint hint of a smirk crossed his lips for a brief moment. Only Ginny - and the young woman who was watching him so intently - could have noticed.

"Yes, I imagine you’re _very_ pleased to see your clientele spreading to other stores because of the unwelcome presence of someone from the Ministry." He became impassive again and Ginny calculated how purple his eye could get after a punch. She made a mental note to clear the doubt with Hermione someday. “Anyway, I didn't come here to pay a cordial visit; I came to see the Ministry's potions preparation. The ones that are _late_ , if I recall.”

"I suspected that much." She replied, biting her tongue to avoid being _too_ rude. She nodded to Flynn, who approached them shyly. "Take Mr. Malfoy to the Potions Room and make sure he’s comfortable." She looked significantly at the young man, implying that 'comfortable' meant ' _don't let the bastard touch anything until I can keep an eye on him'_ and hoped Flynn could understand the subtext. "I'll be with him soon."

She needed time to breathe and concentrate so as not to make any mistakes when going over the potions and ingredients with Malfoy. She was having a lot of work lately; between making strong potions for the Resistance, weak potions for the Ministry and surviving Draco Malfoy's inspections - notably a guy who knew the art of making potions - she was reaching the limit of her patience.

He started going to her shop a few months after he was appointed as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and since then it had been rare that fifteen days have passed without one of his 'visits'.

Inwardly, Ginny was very confused about his attitude: in some moments of insanity she could have sworn that he liked being there: it was public and known the fact he was a great connoisseur of the subject - his best grades were always in potions and his good performance was not just due to Snape's protection. 

But there was something else, she could tell. It was as if he almost… _enjoyed_ her company, her potion skills.

Sometimes Ginny even lost track of time while making mixtures silently with him, between steaming cauldrons and disgusting ingredients. They understand each other without even a word when it came to potions. And then they spent hours on end in this rhythmic and methodical ritual of brewing potions. In those moments she could not remember how hateful he could be when he wanted to.

But only in those moments.

And then she regained her sanity and common sense, convincing herself that he went to the Woodcroft Shop only for the duties of the job. Even though he was an accomplished employee at the Ministry - and in theory he should not inspect potions from simple suppliers, even the most exclusive ones like Ginevra of Woodcroft - his hard-line fame explained, at least in part, his centralizing behavior. 

And it did not fit in with the Malfoy she had met as a teenager.

But the question to ask was: How much was left of that pale boy in whom she had cast Boggart-Banishing Spell, almost ten years ago? Was he still the Malfoy she knew?

Also, there were the dark moments when Ginny felt he was there to investigate her. He knew there was something wrong with her potions and he had certainly already identified the attack pattern of the Resistance's weapons. Would he be able to put two and two together?

She did not want to know the answer.

Ginny sighed loudly, feeling she was never going to get the reason why Draco Malfoy insisted on not dying along with her past.

"Yeah, he _does_ cause that kind of reaction, doesn't he?" The young woman chuckled, misinterpreting Ginny's sigh.

"It's nothing like that! Well, it's just... Oh, forget it." Ginny shrugged, already preparing to face the dragon. She changed her mind halfway and turned to talk to the girl one more time. “And you know what, he's not even handsome, with that pointed face and everything." She gestured to emphasize her opinion.

“I knew it!” The young woman almost roared with laughter and Ginny grimaced at her, but was ignored. "He doesn't look like a hunk of a man, indeed. But that's not all that counts, is it? That one is charming! He must be a hell of a partner for _certain_ activities!" 

“Charming, pff!” Ginny scoffed, out of words.

“Well, at least he could charm his way into my knickers as much as he wanted.” She gave Ginny a knowing wink and turned towards the cashier, leaving Ginny flushed for no apparent reason.

_What the hell were the young women of those days thinking?!_

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

Ginny arrived in the room where she used to brew potions half an hour later.

She had left Malfoy waiting on purpose, a whim in the name of the aggressiveness of their old days.

He was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest in a chair in the corner of the room, with legs crossed elegantly, an ankle on his knee. One foot dangled systematically, indicating that he was impatient. His black robe touched the shiny floor of Ginny's potion room and she felt sorry for the house-elves who were supposed to wash his clothes.

His hair, even longer than Ginny would think acceptable, fell over his grey eyes and, combined with the slight sulky air, formed the image of a spoiled child waiting for attention that had not come at the expected time.

Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his face.

"Sorry for the delay, Mr. Malfoy.” She sounded about as sorry as a bee did for stinging. “You know, customers tend to-“

"I have no interest in your customers' habits or whatsoever." He cut her off, rising sulkily. "May we begin?"

_Oh, we may._

Ginny was a little annoyed by his rude response, but she was still under the effect of the good mood caused by the barely contained laugh.

"Of course." She replied solicitously. “Since the last time you were here, I’ve developed another effective way to brew some of the potions we’ve discussed. Would like to see?"

He nodded silently and so they spent the next two hours, discussing the properties of ingredients and qualities of cauldron brands. Everything was easier when they were in that room, as if there were no wars, pretenses, problems.

They stood side by side and his figure sometimes intimidated her. He really was the size of Ron and, using her brother as a reference, he must have been over six feet tall. Ginny had never been intimidated by big men - given the size of her brothers - but as long as she could use a wand against them and not end up in Azkaban for that.

Malfoy just watched what she was doing; the movement of her hands cutting, chopping and kneading seemed to mesmerize him. She felt his grey eyes hover over her gestures as if he were seeing some highly striking dance. She was getting tense in the face of his silent attention, which only seemed to grow with the passing of his 'visits'.

Was he trying to find out something or just make her uncomfortable?

"I know it's not very pleasant..." She said to break the tension, referring to the slug she was cutting with a silver knife deftly.

She could grasp some things about this adult version of her Slytherin enemy. 

Draco Malfoy was a very quiet man, who distrusted - and disliked - words, as if they were deadly traps and not a form of communication. Where and how the transition from the loudmouth boy to the taciturn and suspicious adult occurred, Ginny could not say.

He used silence in the same way normal people used language. And that alarmed her, since she had grown up at The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole's noisiest house.

Then, when he opened his mouth to speak, Ginny was caught completely off guard.

"They are quite beautiful." He said absently, still looking at her hands.

Ginny stopped abruptly and Malfoy realised that he had thought out loud, but it was too late. A slight flush gave a pinkish hue to his pale face.

"The slugs! The slugs are beautiful to look at." He fumbled, looking a lot less dangerous than he really was. Still, he tried to keep the arrogant tone in his voice, which made the situation even funnier for Ginny.

Ginny grinned for the first time, forgetting all the problems the white ferret could bring her.

"Yeah, they are." She said, no longer holding back the laugh. "Mainly because of their stickiness and lack of articulation."

Malfoy bravely pulled himself together; he walked away with all his remaining dignity, leaning his shoulder against a cupboard, crossing his arms over his chest. And with only one sentence, he wiped the smile off her face.

"You know, I've been thinking about your Erumpent Draught.” He left the sentence in the air, measuring Ginny's reaction. She remained static, focused on the 'beauty' of the slug. "Perhaps you could make it stronger.”

_Of course, I can make it stronger, big twit! That is what I’ve been doing to the Resistance for years!_ She was thinking frantically, trying to find a satisfactory way out of the situation.

“For the Ministry, of course." He completed in an afterthought.

"Oh yes?” She asked pretending to be distracted. And that was difficult when her back was starting to sweat. “How come?”

"You can add Doxy eggs to make the potion more stable and increase the brewing time.” He seemed satisfied with his idea and Ginny wanted to slap him. “If we expose the mixture to higher temperatures, for a longer time, we’re likely to be able to maximize the potential of the other ingredients because of the eggs.”

She made an extraordinary effort not to let any of her despair show. The problem was precisely that he was right. She made this exact combination to improve her potion's performance. She needed to distract him, buy time, _breathe_.

So, despite her common sense, she decided to play dirty.

"Mr. Malfoy, can you come here for a moment?" Ginny asked kindly, ignoring his suggestion.

He frowned for a moment and blinked at her, but approached her nonetheless.

"Do you think this slug is really ready for cutting?” She partially lifted the slug with a spatula. “Notice how its viscosity isn’t ideal. What do you think?" 

Obviously, the idea displeased him, but Malfoy approached her laterally, bending down a little to see the poor dead animal. He grimaced.

"It seems as ready as it’ll ever be." Draco said grudgingly.

"No, no. In this position you’re not at the right angle! The light isn’t hitting the slug correctly. Stay behind me, so you can see better." 

Even visibly uncomfortable, Malfoy positioned himself right behind her. “I cannot see why-“

“This is way better.” Ginny interrupted him. “Do you see now? Its colour is weird and looks like it’s contaminated by some kind of fungus..."

Ginny did not even pay attention to what she was saying anymore, feeling his presence so powerful behind her. She was sure he was trying to peer over her shoulder, also bothered by their improper proximity. Ginny could not help but remember Blaise Zabini’s words, said so many years before. 

_Or it might be just because of his poor finesse when it comes to women._

"It's right here, look." She moved away from the table with the 'intention' to let him see better and got even closer to his body behind her. The top of her head brushed his well-shaved chin. "Ah, looks like the fungus is well hidden..." She bent down, letting her hips brush lightly against Malfoy's. 

She felt he had become more tense.

Ginny closed her eyes, terrified; she needed a way to get out of it before he hexed her, shagged her, repelled her, laughed at her face or passed out. Ginny did not know how she would react to any of these situations.

Taking a desperate measure, she took her spatula and pretended to try to lift the dead slug. Then, as if the lever with the spatula had left her control, she threw the slug back, praying that her aim would still be the same.

It still was.

The slug, at the height of its viscosity, hit Malfoy right in the forehead and ran down the right side of his face, hitting his expensive black robe until it fell to the floor, leaving an unpleasant and gelatinous trail where it passed.

Ginny turned quick as lightning, coming face to face with the figure in black, whose right eye was closed due to the greenish goo covering that side of his face. 

The eye that was still open had the hue of the sky before a storm. Ginny was beginning to suspect this was not a good thing. Nor was his mouth tightened in a thin line full of disapproval.

"Hm, yep, I don't think there was any fungus after all." She tried to sound natural, shrugging.

Malfoy leaned over, moving closer to her.

Ginny froze and closed her eyes. She was nothing of a coward, but she knew she had crossed some limits that should not be crossed.

Then, much to her surprise and outrage, she felt his smeared face stick to the right part of her face and heard his drawled voice, particularly low and menacing, close to her ear.

“I shall leave now. But don’t you dare think I'm going to forget this little stunt of yours, let alone our conversation about improving the fucking potion.”

A shiver ran through Ginny's body from end to end and she did not know if it was because of his threat or the contact with someone's body - even if it belonged to the bouncing ferret - after so many years.

He apparated without even looking at her again, his face still dirty and his pride hurt.

Ginny took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face as best as she could. After a moment, the traces of the slug were gone.

The only problem was the perfume that was strange but likable to her, which insisted on not fading in the air like its owner had done.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

A few days passed and Ginny dismissed the incident, where _'dismissed'_ meant _'forbidden to think about'_. She would deal with Draco Malfoy when the time came; suffering in anticipation would not do her any good.

In that exact moment, she needed a way to make a large batch of Erumpent Draught to her brothers and stall the Ministry for a few more days, in order to use the amount she already had there as raw material. 

In the small office in her shop, she paced restlessly back and forth as if the solution could come through the steps she took on the carpet floor.

James, who was with her in the office that day, was sitting on the edge of her desk, swinging his legs as he opened packages and more packages of chocolate frogs, oblivious to Ginny's concerns.

Absently, she looked out the window. It was already night! She had lost track of time… James should have been in bed for hours by now! If her mother had known that she had this kind of carelessness with her son's schedules, Molly Weasley would have already sent a Howler directly to Ginny's office, the war be damned.

James pulled her out of her thoughts with his typical joyous comments. 

"Mum! Look at the card I just found!" James said, after a chocolate frog jumped, hit the boy's upturned nose and bounced out of his reach. "Hen..." He started to read with difficulty. “Hengist of Woodcroft... I can read his name, because that's my name too..." He was thoughtful and raised those bright green eyes towards her, making Ginny felt her heart sink when she saw a glimmer of hope in those eyes she loved so much. "Is he our family?"

Ginny looked away, opening and closing her mouth before answering. When she had taken the courage to say any words that would distract James from his question, she heard a glass shatter downstairs, where the shop and the Potion Room were located. Unconsciously, she pulled her wand from the inside of her robe.

Looking at her own clothes, Ginny refrained a disapproving grimace. She was wearing the clothes she usually used at the store, favoring a knee-length skirt. Those clothes would not make it any easier if she had to deal with a crook. She sighed and decided to act as quickly as she could.

"Luv, I’ll have to go downstairs to see if something’s wrong there-"

"What if there is a monster down there?!" The boy interrupted her in alarm, suddenly forgetting his question about their family.

Ginny had to smile. "If there’s a monster, I’ll make it a point to tell him to leave our shop and stay away from my son." She kissed the top of the James' head.

James managed a smile. "If I were the monster, I wouldn't tease you." He chuckled, certainly remembering the moments when Ginny let her bad temper come out.

"Ha ha ha, you’re so funny." She said in a tone of false rebuke and hugged the boy before leaving the office. “I’ll be right back. And don’t eat all these chocolate frogs!”

“I won’t.” James beamed at her and Ginny instantly knew he would.

_Brat._

She went down the stairs as quietly as she could, sharpening her instincts in order to hear what was going on. There was a faint sound of footsteps coming from her Potion Room. She would have to be cautious now: taking a silent step after another, her typically feline agility put her at an advantage over her opponents. She left the room where the potions were on display and went to the Potion Room, where the preparations were bottled.

It was very dark, but she did not dare using her wand to light the room and draw attention to herself; she sneaked open the door and got in slowly, stomping on the floor without making a sound, until she felt an arm around her waist.

_Shite._

"You’re not as smart as you think, little widow." 

Ginny felt a tall, strong man with firewhisky breath talking near her ear.

Ginny controlled the natural disgust she felt for the man, quickly releasing her free arm and elbowing the invader in the nose.

He released her immediately with a muffled cry of pain and she was able to find a place to protect herself. She went over knocking over cabinets with her wand to hinder her opponent's passage.

“You fuckin’ bitch! You'll pay for this! Do you hear me, you slut?!”

Ginny was panting, more from the fright than from the effort. In the gloom of the room, she could not see anything, just glimpses of furniture and the gleam of vials. Why, in Merlin's name, was that wretched git there?

She saw the jet of a green hex pass over her head and bounce off the wall, where it made a hole with considerable noise. She took a deep breath and tried to guess where the troglodyte was. She cast a Stunning Spell, but it did not hit anyone.

The idiot could only be trapped in the corner of the door. Ginny had closed one side with fallen furniture, which would expose his position if he tried to move. On the other, there were the heavy cabinets that he would run into if he tried to pass by. Ginny knew the room with her eyes closed after so long working day and night there.

It was like she had predicted: he had taken the only possible path for him. Ginny came around, knowing she would come face to face with him. She vaguely noticed that he had a disproportionate build and he was panting, as if chasing her within that relatively small space had already taken effort. 

She smiled maniacally; it would be his bloody end.

Ginny pointed her wand at the bloke, who stopped short. Ginny came over and her wand sank into his double chin. The man was masked as a bloody Death Eater, but his robes had the insignia of a Ministry official. She almost laughed at the irony: Ministry or Death Eaters, it was the same nowadays.

"I _did_ listen to you.” She said without hiding the anger in her voice and sinking her wand further into the man's neck. "But I'm still waiting to know how I'm going to pay."

She felt that he trembled slightly and was preparing to immobilize him when she was interrupted.

"You may not have to wait long, girl." A voice said behind her. She turned away sharply and found two more masked men. And, to her dismay, one of them was carrying James, floating and tied behind him. "Drop your wand." One of the new masked men spoke and she promptly obeyed.

James had eyes like saucers; he was all tied up and gagged, like a little animal. Ginny felt an absurd rage rising inside her.

"If any of you hurt my son, I'll fucking kill you all." Ginny growled at them.

Taking advantage of her distraction, the big man in front of her reversed their positions and, with a jerk, threw Ginny against the wall, while kicking her wand to keep it away from her. Ginny hit her head on the surface as the man projected forward and pressed her body against the wall.

"Then let's see what you can do without your wand." He supported his own body weight on her and pressed her even more; his mouth was very close to her ear. "I bet you can be very docile, with the right treatment." 

Dimly, Ginny saw James forcing the strings to come free and trying to say something, but his voice was drowned out by the gag.

“Goyle, enough. Hurting her would only bring more problems.” The other man said, the one who was holding James. Ginny saw him turn to the other escort, shorter and also masked. "Go get what we came for." The shorter man stepped out of sight and, sometime later, she could hear the noise of things being turned over.

_They want my potions!_ , She thanked Merlin for not having started making the potions to Resistance yet; she only had a few vials with her which was not enough to incriminate her completely, even if it was enough for someone with more intelligence to make the right associations.

_Certainly not someone like Goyle_. Even after so many years, that git still showed up to make her life miserable.

“This isn’t the time we’ll have our little chat, sweetie.” Goyle had pulled away a little, but she could still feel his hateful breath on her cheek. "Next time, we'll finish what we started." Slowly, he ran his hand over her thigh, causing a wave of revulsion to run through Ginny's body.

Her bad temper got out of Ginny's control; she turned directly to the big masked man and spat so hard that it would make her brothers proud. The spit stream hit him in the eye, dripping down the mask - and inside too, she supposed contentedly.

"You bitch!" Goyle pulled Ginny by the arm and threw her on the ground. She tried to search for her wand with her eyes, but the dark made it impossible to do anything about it; she tried to get up, but Goyle pointed his wand straight at her. 

" _Crucio!_ " He screamed and the last thing Ginny saw before hitting the ground again was James's terrified face.

She had never experienced it. It looked like she was being dismembered. As if the air pressure had increased exponentially, making her organs _explode_. It was not possible to breathe, move or react. 

Just scream.

And screamed she did in the first time she was hit by the curse. In the second time, she just groaned painfully. On the third, she saw nothing else.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

She opened her eyes slowly, annoyed by the first rays of light that seeped through the Potion Room window; she closed them again, too weak even to perform the simplest movements. She felt she had been run over by a pack of Thestrals; every nerve in her body were hypersensitive and she felt that any movement would detach the muscles from her very bones. She remained there, floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, hearing voices that seemed to come from afar.

“Have we taken everything already? We have to leave quickly! If the wrong people at the Ministry find out we were here…” One of the invaders left the sentence in the air.

“Who, Malfoy? He’s being too soft with this one, nobody knows why.” She recognised Goyle's hateful voice. “It’s more than fair to take her entire potion stock. She always gives the Ministry the runaround whenever we need the potions and we can’t afford confront the Resistance without it, not after their last strike. Don't forget that we’re not able to prepare the potions ourselves.”

"What if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut about it?"

“She’s not going to report us. Not if she wants stay out of trouble. We’re the Law now.” Goyle said with pride, which turned Ginny's already weakened stomach.

"What are we going to do with the boy?" That was a different voice.

“Just leave him here. We already got what we came for.”

Ginny opened her eyes again, but a series of boxes - _her potions_ \- blocked her view; they were already preparing to leave, taking the potions with them. She was losing consciousness again and felt like screaming for her son, needed to know where he was, if he was okay.

And it was with these desperate thoughts that she plunged into the gloom of unconsciousness once again.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXXxX

Ginny woke up completely with James's little arms wrapped around her and his face on her stomach. He sobbed painfully and, upon hearing it, she almost sobbed with him.

“It's okay, my love. Mum is here. I’ll _always_ be here.” She said in a husky, tired voice, trying to calm James, who was crying profusely. 

She looked at her boy's wrists, which seemed to be almost raw. She had never seen a spell like that. Against a child nonetheless! She sat up with difficulty, putting James on her lap, rocking him like she did when he was still a baby.

"James, look at me." She lifted the boy's face with a light touch on his chin. His bright green eyes were swollen and shiny with tears falling down his face. "I promise nobody will hurt or scare you like that again, never again. Do you hear me?"

James looked much younger than his six years when he answered quietly. "I know you’re going to protect me, mum." He stifled his face against her lap, as if embarrassed by his next statement. "I just don't want to be afraid anymore."

She held him tighter to her.

“You won’t. I promise.”

In that very day she had been humiliated, had suffered from an Unforgivable Curse, had been beaten, shamelessly stolen. But _nothing_ had hurt her more than seeing her son in that state.

She sat there with James glued to her for a long time, until the boy fell asleep in her lap.

When the day dawned completely, Ginevra of Woodcroft had already outlined an ambitious plan. A dangerous one.

A plan Ginny Weasley would surely reprove with all her might.

However, if everything went as she wanted, James and her would be protected.

And that was the only thing that had always mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all comments in the last chapter! I don't even know how to thank you all, really! You're the best!


	12. Poking the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One might think that the constant presence of 'grey', ‘ashen’ in this story refers to Draco and his eyes. Obviously, this is true and purposeful, mainly because he is the main character alongside Ginny; but it goes beyond that. The idea of grey fits almost all the characters in the story, all with their light and dark facets, evident and implied. And that goes for Ginny too; I hardly like Ginnys who are perfect, untouchable, who don't make mistakes. The Ginny in this story, on the contrary, has her dark side and, what is more important, also screws things up and makes decisions that are at least questionable, morally speaking. This is what we will begin to see in this chapter.

**12 – Poking the Dragon**

"Ma'am, you need to _rest_! You haven't done that for almost three days in a row..." Flynn waved his hand to draw Ginny's attention. “Look around, things are in order now. The new employee and I can take turns preparing the ingredients to replace the stolen potions." He stopped by the door of the office where Ginny paced, doing math, cataloging the damage she had suffered and occupying her mind.

"I'm going to rest, Flynn. As soon as we're done here." She assured him finally looking at the young man, a tired smile in her face. "Has James gone home yet?"

Since the robbery of her potions, James had not been in the shop after late afternoon; Ginny was torturing herself for leaving him, but she still needed to take a deeper inventory of how much the bastards had stolen from her, although, of course, she was already sure of the main thing that had been robbed from her that night: the prototype of peace that she had created for herself and her son.

Now she was ready to get it back, no matter what.

She was aware they had taken samples of the fortified Erumpent Draught she had made to the Resistance and almost all her remaining inventory, but it was no use being apprehensive right now; she could allege the stronger potion had been acquired from a supplier abroad so she could study its behavior and try to reproduce it. To the Ministry, of course. 

It was a flimsy and bad excuse, but in the worst case, she would buy some time before she could get out of England, although she had a feeling she would not have to recur to that extreme course of action.

_If her plan worked out..._

"Yes. Della came here to take him home. He looked a lot more excited, if you ask me." Flynn replied as helpful as ever. "I’ve promised I’ll take him for a broom ride tomorrow."

Not for the first time, Ginny felt affection and consideration for the lad, forgetting for a moment the world around her and her problems with the Ministry.

Flynn had been her support during that horrible time and she had not bothered to thank him yet. It was as if he were another brother of hers.

_As if I didn't already have enough brothers,_ she thought acidly.

Pushing away the ironic thoughts, she walked over to him, taking his hand lightly. Then she moved closer and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks for everything, Flynn." Ginny sighed and patted her assistant's hand affectionately.

Flynn had eyes like saucers as if a global catastrophe had just happened. He had never seen Mrs. Ginevra give him any freedom or come close to him like that - or close to any other man, as far as he knew.

The young man opened and closed his mouth several times before trying to stammer an answer, but when he found his voice, it was no longer necessary: another voice, much more sarcastic, manifested from the door.

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, looking at the scene with a raised eyebrow and a hint of humor in his pointed, aristocratic face. "One of your employees took me here. He said you would see me, but if you're... _busy_ , I shall come back another time." He looked suggestively from Ginny to Flynn and then back again to Ginny, smirking slightly.

Ginny felt blush spread over her face. Who did he think he was to make that kind of suggestion? 

_The bloke in which you rubbed up your arse on a few days ago_ , said the inconvenient little voice inside her head.

Ignoring Malfoy's poisonous innuendo and her unwanted thoughts, she took a deep breath. She would need all the cold blood she could muster to deal with what was to come.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy.” She forced a smile on her face, knowing it would look more like a grimace. "Stay, please. It’s precisely with you I’d like to speak to."

He glanced at her with growing curiosity, with no trace of the rare humor of seconds ago. 

_Do I have your attention now, ferret?_

_Good._

"Flynn, can you take care of the shop, please? I'm going to the Potion Room with Mr. Malfoy. Surely he'll be more comfortable there."

"Y-yes, ma'am." Flynn hurried away, trying to hide his face completely flushed, without even looking back, and Ginny could not help wondering how many girlfriends her young friend had ever had. 

Malfoy, for his part, had not even bothered to notice the lad's presence after his ironic comment. He remained in an observant silence for a few moments, before speaking one more time. 

"You don’t look well." He looked carefully at her, at her tired appearance, as if he realised something was _off_ with her, but he still seemed unfazed.

Not for the first time, Ginny realised that Malfoy had the annoying power to make every sentence of his sounds as though nothing were absolutely important. And, maybe, for him, nothing really was.

_Thanks for noticing the blatantly obvious, you git,_ Ginny thought crossly. _It was only your cronies who attacked me in almost every way possible._

Instinctively, Ginny looked at herself in the mirror in the nearest wall. Her hair, which she traditionally tied in a discreet ponytail, was loose and fell down to the middle of her back; it seemed redder due to the pallor of her face. 

She could not resist the urge of putting a lock of hair behind her ear and felt that Malfoy’s gaze had followed her gesture.

_Weird._

She was wearing her old jeans and a simple shirt, which she had not bothered to change when leaving her house.

_Very muggle clothes,_ she made a mental note, warning herself to be more careful from now on.

"It's only your impression, Mr. Malfoy. I’ve already recovered from the well-planned robbery at my shop." Ginny said with venom, even though she smiled politely at him.

"Ah, that." Malfoy seemed bothered for a millisecond, but then he put on the mask of indifference he called face one more time.

"Exactly. _That_. The unacceptable assault on a law-abiding citizen who pays every tax and contributes with pleasure to the Ministry of Magic. But I'm sure the Ministry is going to do everything possible to arrest the men who had stolen me, right?"

Ginny was pushing her luck and was aware of it: how could Draco Malfoy, one of the heads of the Ministry and notorious Death Eater, be responsible for arresting other Death Eaters, who happened to be also Ministry employees?

Ginny was completely unprotected in this situation, unless she managed to achieve her goal.

Malfoy merely nodded slowly and followed in an intimidating silence which, Ginny had already noticed, was what he did best.

He seemed suddenly more closed by the mention of the theft and she was apprehensive: she needed him to be fully focused on her. So, she decided to take charge of the situation one more time.

"Did you come to see the preparation of the Ministry's potions? I'm afraid I don't have much to show."

"There’s no problem." Malfoy assured her with an impatient gesture of his hand. "I want to see it anyway."

The two went down to her Potions Room in silence and she hurried on, aware of his eyes on her. When he thought she was not paying attention, there was a spark of curiosity in those eyes that were now particularly bluish.

And she had to chided herself mentally for thinking about the variation in his eye color at a time like this.

They let the silence fill the immense gap between them, each immersed in their own thoughts. Ginny tried to concentrate on preparing the potion for him to supervise, but she could not help the tension that ran through her body; his physical presence was overwhelming, even though most of the time he just moved his eyes, scrutinizing.

She was brewing a Sleeping Draught in the cauldron when she made her decision. 

It was now or never.

Subdue or be subdued.

"Do you know who I really am?" She asked looking up at him, as if to say, ' _Have you seen the weather outside?'_ , while absently mixing the potion.

The only answer she got was more silence and a stare so penetrating that she thought it would be tattooed on her forehead if she looked at him any longer. 

So many moments passed before Draco Malfoy opened his mouth that Ginny thought she would never get an answer from him: she was already beginning to think about other approaches when he finally spoke up.

"My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He said quietly, fixing his gaze on hers without showing any feeling. 

In turn, he had responded her as if he were saying _'Yes, it's cloudy'._

Considering the distant semblant he displayed, Ginny was fully convinced Malfoy had spoken that same phrase before and he was remembering it, a memory from a point in his past.

Her eyes widened, not hiding her surprise. Had he always known, then? She hoped that the surprise at the revelation of her true identity might have some bearing on the decision he would have to make soon enough, but she now realised it would not be possible.

One point to Malfoy. One from Ginny.

_Bloody hell!_

To make matters even worse, the mention of Lucius Malfoy brought her an unpleasant feeling. The resemblance between father and son was really incredible. Draco had grown up to be as dark as his father, maybe even more so; he had somehow managed to become more taciturn, more threatening, because Lucius, as far as Ginny remembered, was more the type who liked to brag, to have the spotlight. 

While Draco... She did not know what else to think of the younger Malfoy.

In fact, Ginny realised the point was exactly that: at school, she was not afraid of Draco Malfoy; he was just a stupid spoiled brat, who talked a lot and acted little. That had begun to change in her fifth year - his sixth year - with the incident of Dumbledore's death. And now, so many years later, she was faced with a grown man, different and... _emotionless_. As if the cold was able to leave his interior and radiate into the atmosphere around him.

And she was about to play a _very_ dangerous game with him. She swallowed hard.

"Why haven’t you arrested me, tattled on me or handed me over to You-Know-Who?" She asked, her voice weak and still shaken.

Although the possibility of him knowing about her identity was not improbable, she was not counting on his previous knowledge and that had destabilised her.

“To be honest, I cannot see the benefits I would get from this. Prestige, perhaps.” Malfoy shrugged before adding in a somewhat smug voice. “But I already have enough prestige for me and my family. I see no other reason, for now. The Dark Lord wants the heads of the Resistance, which doesn’t seem to be your case, _so far…_ ” He let the sentence die as if he were still not entirely sure of her association with the Resistance, but had a very good guess that such contact was actually taking place.

"You could’ve done it out of revenge... for your father." Ginny commented softly and chided herself mentally in the sequence. She was giving reasons for Malfoy to report her, but curiosity had always been one of her biggest weaknesses. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes suddenly darkened, taking on that hue that Ginny knew could not mean a good thing.

“I happened to be there when my father was murdered, Weasley. I saw who killed him. And if I wasn't sure that buffoon Longbottom is also dead now, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I would be chasing him, for this revenge that you well reminded me of.” He uncrossed his arms, walking towards the door - a sign that he was ending that conversation. “But like everything else in life, I shall continue to feel the bitter taste of not having killed the arsehole with my bare hands. Now there’s nothing else that matters to me.”

He turned to go, but decided to throw one last sentence over his shoulder, changing the subject.

“By the way, since we finally laid our cards on the table, I'm still watching you, Weasley. No potions for the cronies you call family.” He nodded his head in farewell - he had already said everything he needed.

Ginny had not.

She was lost in thought when she said in a low voice. "And your mother?"

He stopped midway, still with his back to her, looking like he had been struck by a lightning.

"What about my mother?" He drawled, turning slowly.

“You said that there’s nothing else that you care about. Does this also apply to your mother?”

His face had an expression he had exhibited frequently back at Hogwarts. One that clearly said ' _why does it matter to you?_ '. Then he expressed with words what was already written on his face.

"I fail to see why it would be any concern of yours." His voice remained empty, although Ginny could have sworn there was a different timbre when he answered her. “Motherhood gave you a bleeding heart, Weasley. Worried about the relationship between mothers and their children?” His tone was pure sarcasm this time.

Ginny's heart sped up - even more. _Did he know about James?_ What else did that bastard know and had not said? She had always been so discreet about her life... 

The logical deduction came to her immediately: _The Ministry!_

She almost pinched herself for the slip. If he were investigating her - as he probably was - he would obviously know about James. Not for the first time, she found Draco Malfoy to be a dangerous opponent: he was the only person who knew fully about her past _and_ her present activities.

She lifted her head and refrained the discouragement at being discovered; she would join the game and wipe that snobbish expression off his face.

Ginny sighed resolutely before answering. “It’s true that motherhood has changed me, Malfoy. I stopped being a convinced idealist and I accepted that, many times, we need to willingly sacrifice our ethical values in the name of those we love. You’re going to understand that soon enough, I suppose.” She left the sentence in the air and he raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but maintained his defensive silence.

Ginny ignored him and methodically began to organise her utensils, taking her sweet time to organise her ideas as well. She knew he was watching her, and this time, his scrutiny did not bother her. It was even better because the tension dissipated from her body and managed to hit him; somehow, it made her feel like they were even.

A few minutes passed before she opened her mouth again.

"For a long time in my life I thought you were a spoiled and insensitive arsehole because of your parents." She nodded smoothly in his direction.

Malfoy's eyes widened, clearly surprised.

_How long had it been since someone had offended him that way?_ She guessed he had lost the habit of hearing certain offenses over the years, as he gradually restored his family's name.

“But then I found out you weren’t heartless. You couldn't be, not after Harry told me about what happened at the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore died, after you helped me in the Battle of Hogwarts and after you spared my brother's life.” Malfoy was suddenly tense at the memory. Those were days they both wanted to forget, she was sure. “And I also found out that the fact you were a twat wasn’t due to your parents. Well, at least, it wasn't due to your mom.”

"And what the hell do you know about my mother and me?" He was speaking quietly and there were no changes in his voice tone, but Ginny could notice he was restless now. "I'm starting to lose my patience with you, Weasley."

“I know she’s an incredible woman and she helped Harry Potter. It’s a pity I’ve only recently learned about this.”

He was livid, even paler - if that was possible - and Ginny did not know if it was due to the pronunciation of Harry's name or the revelation about his mother's betrayal. He strode up to her and took her arm firmly, holding her in place with some force.

“I’ve never regretted something as much as I’m now regretting not having handed you and your little bastard over to the Dark Lord. But you will no longer have the chance to open that traitorous mouth of yours to spread lies about my mother, do you hear me?” He said through his teeth, shaking her to emphasize his point, and she tried to pull away without success.

Ginny had to lift her head to look at him, and she did not back away, her brown eyes as warlike as the silver ones. The place where he pressed on her right arm started to go numb, but now there was no turning back.

She should go ahead, no matter what.

Since meeting Malfoy again, she had never seen him lose control like that; he had not screamed, it was true, but Ginny wished he had. She knew how to deal with screams and explosions, but she was not sure how to deal with the cold anger emanating from that man.

“It seems that it's not just my mouth that is traitorous here. And you know it's not a lie! Otherwise, you wouldn't have confined your own mother to St. Mungo’s, all this time... No, you did it because you’re afraid she’ll let slip that she saved Harry Potter to get into Hogwarts _for you_! That she helped him come up with a plan to defeat You-Know-Who _for you!_ ”

She stopped, the tension running thick between them and the hand that gripped her arm became firmer.

"You should be proud." She said the last sentence with evident sarcasm. She could also play his game.

In the next instant his wand had appeared in his pale hand and was pointing at Ginny's neck. She resigned herself to being still; she could not take her own wand out of her pocket without being hexed - or worse. Besides, she knew this was a battle that would be won with words, not with wands and spells.

“In fact, what I should do is make you swallow each lying word. And maybe that’s what I’ll do... After taking you to the Ministry.” He said without letting her go and she really was a little afraid of the threat because, somehow, she knew he had not done it lightly.

"No, you won't." Ginny tried to sound as cold as she could, even though she was boiling inside. “When they – my allies- see me leaving here dragged by you, or disappearing after your visit, they’ll let a certain package with precious information arrive directly to You-Know-Who. Or to any other person who can make good use of it.” She bluffed.

"Merlin, you're bluffing!" He guessed right, but Ginny remained unmoved. "I'm not going to fall for this little game of yours, Weasley. I shall take you from here and I shall never have to look at your face again.” Malfoy said with sharp contempt.

He buried his wand a bit in Ginny's neck and did not seem to care how the tip of the object hurt her freckled neck.

Ginny swallowed hard, but continued with a challenge in her voice. "Try your luck, then. If I fall, you fall with me. Or rather, if I fall, your mother falls with me. So, I repeat my question, Malfoy: how much do you care about your mother?” She asked focusing on his face and not letting her fear show at all. 

Suddenly, she realised he was hesitating and that gave her more strength.

"You have nothing concrete to accuse my mother of," Malfoy said arrogantly, but without the same assurance as before. "It's your word against mine. Your position as a blood traitor and muggle-lover against my services to the Dark Lord's cause.”

"I have something more than concrete." Ginny said with a sparkle of triumph in her eyes. "I have _memories._ "

Suddenly, Malfoy lowered his wand and let her go abruptly, as if the contact with her skin offended him. Moving restlessly, he ran a hand through his hair, in such a way that it seemed he was looking for a quick solution to kill Ginny without leaving a trace. He looked somewhere over her shoulder, lost in his own thoughts.

"Whose memories are these?" Malfoy asked her without making eye contact.

"Harry’s." It was a simple answer, but, strangely, it made Ginny a little uncomfortable.

Draco snorted loudly. "Even after death, Scarhead manages to make my life a fucking misery." He grumbled more to himself than to her. 

He distanced himself from Ginny and rested his arms on the table where she was preparing the ingredients, staring very closely at a peacock feather on the surface. “How much do you want for it? You know, money was _never_ an issue for me.” 

Ginny noticed a tone of arrogance in his voice that irritated her. Would he be so stupid to think she would do it for money?

_Yes, he would,_ said the familiar little voice inside Ginny's head.

“Money isn’t an issue for me either. The atmosphere that you Death Eaters impose on society is very positive for my business.” She crossed her arms over her chest, relieved to be able to move freely. "My vault at Gringotts is doing quite well, thank you very much."

Malfoy was curious. Curious _and_ angry. Ginny could easily deduce what was going on in his head: _How dare a Weasley refuse my money? What kind of useless blackmailer was she?_

Malfoy only spoke again after a minute, which seemed eternal. 

“So, what do you want from me, Weasley?” He demanded still looking at the table in front of him and Ginny almost shouted triumphantly. 

It was the admission of his defeat. Ginny felt the taste of victory - and it was _bitter_.

She was going to get what she wanted.

Ginny was silent for a while and he looked away from the table to fix his eyes on her face. He looked really tense. His mouth was compressed as if he were waiting for a punch; the metallic tone in his eyes was resigned. She knew he wanted to get over with it once for all.

And suddenly, she wanted it as badly as him.

“I want influence. I want protection. I want safety.” 

She stopped, giving him time to assimilate her words, before she played her final card. 

"I want your name." When saying the last sentence, however, she could not help the blush that spread across her face.

Malfoy's countenance changed several times in a very short time. Annoyance turned into wariness, then into confusion, and finally, when he really understood what Ginny had implied, his face showed only a profound horror.

_I want your name._

_I want a marriage._

Ginny had imagined that scene so differently. She would be in a beautiful garden, with her red hair blowing in the wind; she would have a flower attached to it and would wear a charming dress - not her old muggle jeans. She would be overjoyed with the belief that her marriage would be based on love and that she would be happy.

And, the main difference, she would be looking at emerald green eyes and not at storm-colored ones - which was certainly a bad omen. 

Eyes that, at that very moment, were like saucers.

Malfoy stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost. Or rather, he had seen ghosts - and even had built a friendship with some of them - and had never made that face. He looked at her as if she said he was an adopted son and was born in the Muggle suburb of London. He just could not believe what he had heard.

“You can't be serious, Weasley! Never in your wildest dreams would I marry you!” He said hastily for the first time, his voice slightly squeaky, and leaned on the table as though the world had turned upside down.

Ginny grunted in response. "I don't want this any more than you do, Malfoy. I'm just doing what it takes to protect my son."

"You’ve gone completely insane, more like. I would _never_ taint my family's name with..." He stopped, seeming to think of a series of insults. When none were good enough, he gave up waving a dismissive hand “...with someone like _you_!"

Ginny, for her part, got angrier by the disgusted expression on his face. _Was the idea of marrying her such a horrible one?_

Hiding her displeasure at his rejection, Ginny shrugged casually. "So, I suppose I’ll have to look for protection elsewhere, with the Resistance, maybe... They would be very happy to have access to those memories." She looked at him innocently, sweetly. "You know, you've been a real pain in the arse to them…”

Draco took a deep breath, as if asking for help from the Universe to refrain strangling Ginny's neck.

“You have my word that what happened at your store will never happen again, you’ll not be attacked in any way.” Draco promised solemnly. “Also, I shall not allow them to investigate your life in depth, as long as you stop providing potions for the Resistance.”

“I can’t believe how self-centered you are! You’re in no position to negotiate.” Ginny declared cruelly. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’m giving you my bloody word.” Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

"And since when is your word a reliable one?" Ginny almost pouted while answering him. She had already gone too far to give up so easily. 

It would be what she wanted or nothing.

"If so, why do you think I'm going to fulfill this ludicrous deal, whatever it is?" Draco was exasperated, running his hands over his platinum strands, which insisted on falling over his eyes.

“Because I want a formal marriage contract. I need it, actually. It’s not enough if you just protect me under the table: people _must know_ your name shields me. No one will dare to do anything against the wife of the Ministry’s main department head.” Ginny said firmly and almost thought Malfoy would faint, but she went on bravely. “And also, because I want an Unbreakable Vow.”

Malfoy looked more shocked now, as if he were about to bolt through the door at any moment and forget that conversation had even existed. He took a deep breath to control his emotions before responding. 

“And what do you want me to swear with an Unbreakable Vow? Eternal love?" He drawled the sarcastic words and raised a desperate eyebrow at her.

"I want you to swear you’re going to protect my son's life against You-Know-Who." Ginny revealed with her eyes down, suddenly embarrassed.

Draco could not even move when the realisation hit him like a hurricane: For the first time, he understood the size of the problem. For the first time, Draco Malfoy understood that he was going to be part of Ginny Weasley's life.

His mind was being devastated with a whirlwind of ideas.

It was no longer a clash between Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy, it had crossed that realm at that point. That filthy beggar was afraid of Voldemort and of what her son represented! 

He chided himself mentally for not having anticipated this situation. It was obvious that sooner or later she would face the consequences of having conceived Scarhead’s brat - if she had not already faced it at some point. 

Now it seemed quite clear to him why she had abandoned that herd of rabbits she called family: she was afraid of what the boy meant for the Resistance _and_ for Voldemort.

_And now she’s sharing this child's risk with me!_ Draco felt like he was about to explode. 

He wanted to hex her, destroy that fucking shop, flee from England, but he simply stared at her, trying to show nothing of what he was feeling.

It was not fair he should be obliged to share the problems created by a couple minutes of pleasure between the Scarhead and the Ginger Vixen! He was disgusted.

And angry. Very angry.

She was exposing Draco to a very dangerous situation. Swearing to protect the boy's life against Voldemort at the expense of Draco's own life meant that he should act against everything he had built in the past six years: He had fought to give his mother a dignified life after his father had died, to retrieve the Black and Malfoy’s names to where they never should have left.

He had tortured and endured torture, he had killed and narrowly escaped his own death, he had been a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. He had learned not to fail, because each failure brought his mother closer to an (more) unhappy existence. He had learned to do everything he was told, without question. He had learned to give orders without being questioned.

Through the fear he had felt as a teenager, he had mastered how to take advantage of other’s fears. He had failed to kill Dumbledore one day at the Astronomy Tower, yes, but that was his last strategic error. Since then, he had grown up to be the best. And when he could not be, he manipulated to get the best one out of his way. 

He had moved up: among the Death Eaters, no one remembered the Malfoys' mistakes - at least not in front of him. He had entered the inner circle of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters and it had given him more political influence. 

It was the least he could do for his mother: be successful and raise their family's status one more time.

And now he was going to lose _everything,_ because he would have to marry the Female Weasley and would become a traitor.

_Betrayal_. The word sounded bitter in his mind; not because he had any stupid idealistic sense, but because he was very comfortable in this life he had built; he had a lot of money, prestige, his pride was rebuilt.

_Allying himself with her meant to protect the Resistance!_ Yes, because he knew she would not stop helping her family and he could not do a fucking thing against her.

She was only asking for the Unbreakable Vow for her son, it was true, but he could not get rid of his future wife without arousing suspicion.

And if someone started to investigate the case a bit more, just out of curiosity, it would be the end of him. They would find out who she was and, most importantly, _who her son was_.

And the brat killed by the Dark Lord's hands would mean a very dead Draco Malfoy, once he had made the vow.

How could he - Head of the Aurors and one of the most favored Death Eaters by Voldemort-, indirectly protect the Resistance and stay alive to tell the story? He almost found the situation amusing, if he did not feel like torturing every muscle of hers.

He had the urge to laugh mockingly at her face and drag her by the stupid red hair to the Dark Lord, with her son in tow. But he remembered his mother, fragile, confused, sad. Hurt his mother was the only thing he had not learned in the process of nullifying all feelings that could harm him, in the process of becoming indifferent to everything. 

He could not even be bothered by the fact that it was the memories of his mother's actions that were putting him in this situation.

Draco could only think it was Ginny Weasley’s fault, the blackmailing viper.

His mind worked frantically.

There was nothing he could do but to give in. And the humiliation it brought was so poignant that Draco thought he would suffocate.

However, if it was going to be a truly hell for him, it would be no different for her. 

And he could make and Unbreakable Vow to ensure that too.

"You will get everything you want." He finally said and Ginny almost sighed with relief, leaning against her potion-making table. “Come to Malfoy Manor tomorrow afternoon to settle the contract details and do what must be done. You will deal with a person I trust. He will make all the necessary arrangements and see to it that my interests are protected.”

Ginny was already opening her mouth to protest about other people's involvement in her secret, when he silenced her with an impatient gesture of his hand.

“Worry not, Weasley. I’ve understood the overall idea quite well. Exposing you and your son means exposing my mother and me.” He said impatiently and she nodded. "This person will know how to be discreet."

Ginny felt a mixture of a thousand feelings and none of them were pleasant.

She knew that what she was demanding of him would put a stone in what remained of humanity in Malfoy and she felt worse when remembered she he had tried to help him, more than once. But it was necessary.

_It was necessary._

She would repeat this as a mantra, until she accepted the idea as true. She pushed out of her head the image her parents, siblings and friends would make of her. The image she would make of herself. 

She shut up the little inner voice saying she belonged beside the good guys, that she should have never reached such low extremes. Blackmail, manipulation. For the first time, Ginny felt _dirty_.

"There are a million shades of grey..." she murmured quietly to herself, distracted by the implications of what she had just done.

When she came back to reality again, Draco Malfoy was in front of her, just inches away, and did not seem to have heard her last statement. He was staring at her and Ginny could clearly identify the feeling that emanated throughout his body: pure hatred.

She resisted the urge to look away from him: she should learn to live with it now. It was her fair share.

Malfoy took off his gloves very slowly and put them in his trousers pocket. Ginny was mesmerized by the movements: she did not remember seeing him without gloves since they met, and that scene unfolding in front of her was strangely _private._

His hand was still as pale - or more - as the rest, and the long fingers of his right hand were busy rolling up the left sleeve of his black shirt methodically.

Then, it was the turn of his right sleeve. With each movement of his hands, he moved a little closer; Ginny was petrified and was already beginning to feel a latent terror. What did he mean by that? Warn Voldemort?

She tried very hard not to look at the terrible dark mark tattooed irretrievably on his left arm, but it was so exposed that Ginny felt a morbid fascination like the one that made people turn their heads to see someone who had suffered a broom accident.

She retreated until her body bumped into the table behind her and he, in turn, was only far away enough as she would have no trouble breathing. He placed an uncovered arm on either side of her body, preventing any attempt to escape - which she would not try anyway, given that her legs would not obey her after the mental weariness caused by the battle of wills she had just won.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Malfoy?" She managed to muster up the courage to say after a moment. And she had to thank the universe as her voice did not tremble.

Malfoy had stepped dangerously close to her, his nose level with the top of her head. His voice was deceptively low, the dangerous purr of an angry dragon directed straight into her ear.

"I just want you to comprehend the hell you entered on your own volition." With a nod of his head, he pointed his arms around her and Ginny felt blond hairs brushing against her face. “If you try to escape by one side, you’ll find me. If you try to escape by the other one,” This time he pointed directly at his left arm, which contained the dark mark. "you’ll find the Dark Lord." 

She held her breath and he waited a few more moments, as if he were feeding on the tension she knew her body was emanating. 

"I truly hope you’ll enjoy the experience. _I_ certainly shall enjoy it." He ended up with a sarcastic smile and stared at her, with that same almost insane look that had disturbed her years ago.

And then, with a nod that could be considered polite if it were not loaded with irony, he turned and left.

Ginny only relaxed when she was sure she was alone, exhaling a ragged breath. She ran her hands over her face, as if she could cleanse herself from his presence, from her own decisions and from every bad prospect that this agreement between them brought. Avoiding tears, she slid to the floor and hugged her knees, still shaken by Malfoy’s presence so close to her and by the scenario he had exposed.

Supporting her head in her arms in an instinctively protective gesture, Ginny was certain her life would _never_ be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is where I planned to take the story. 
> 
> As it hasn't received any comments in the previous chapter, I imagine that there's no one reading. And if there's no one reading, perhaps this is not a story worth telling. 
> 
> Anyway, I appreciate the attention of everyone who accompanied me at some point. It was a pleasure.  
> Always remember that comments and kudos are what motivate authors to keep writing.


	13. Contract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to ch_rainlily. It exists only because of her.  
> Thank you so much, my darling! See ya soon.

**13 – Contract**

With the typical small faint _pop_ of the apparition, Ginny materialised herself in a narrow alley in front of the entrance that led to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, where her deal with Malfoy was to be sealed.

She had come alone because, in the first place, there was no one to accompany her. Second, under no circumstance did she want to share the internal shame threatening to consume her; the _‘deal’_ – as she mentally referred to her blackmail – had cost scruples Ginny had mistakenly thought she had already lost a long time ago.

Shooing away the feelings of remorse, she lifted her chin in the best haughty pose she could, and headed toward the impressive wrought-iron gates. When she raised her hand to touch it, the gate opened magically with a ghostly sound of creaking hinges.

She was being expected.

Some part of her really wanted the gate to remain closed. Who knows, maybe she could shrug all this ordeal off and leave, in the best _‘at least I tried’_ attitude. But it had opened up and there she was, invading Malfoy Manor’s grounds.

Swallowing hard, she went to face the fate she had provoked. Malfoy’s words – threat – kept hammering her mind; she had only tried to obtain protection, but had she gotten herself in a snake’s nest instead?

Ginny sighed, walking for minutes - which seemed like hours - down a straight path covered with yew hedges, totally unpleasant to her eyes. When she had the chance, she would change all of it. That place definitely needed more life.

At the thought, Ginny almost slapped herself for thinking about household chores at Malfoy Manor.

The route was so long that she had time, when passing by a fountain, to put her hand in the clear water. She had even been startled when a peacock as white as the ferret who owned that place crossed her path and, when she got bored of the long walk, mentally went over all the speech she had prepared. After minutes, she finally reached the steps that led to the entrance to the house itself.

She breathed deeply.

The door opened up to reveal a brood, eared elf who bowed reluctantly before her.

"Welcome, ma’am.” He murmured still looking at the floor, somewhat unwillingly. “Edril is here to serve you." 

Ginny, in no mood to deal with grumpy house-elves, got straight to the point. "Is there anyone waiting for me?"

"I ask you to come with me, ma’am." The elf said, raising up to lead her inside.

The interior of the Manor was sumptuously decorated, with carpets that smelled of pleasant fragrances and many mirrors. The paintings followed Ginny with hostile eyes as she passed the corridors full of objects she was sure were worth more than the entire Burrow.

She sighed, feeling homesick. That mansion was so... _Non-Weasley._

The elf seemed to read her thoughts as he led her in a room that resembled an office. “I hope you don’t feel too uncomfortable, ma’am. You’ll be received soon." And apparated abruptly.

Not for the first time, Ginny felt utterly alone.

Hugging herself to ease the cold that threatened to take hold of her, she took a closer look at her surrounds. She looked around the cozy armchairs, the double-polished furniture, the richly decorated fireplace...

There were some pictures on top of it, where Ginny went to look for information that would distract her agitated mind. Strangely enough, she saw Malfoy aged about four, playing with a broom, smiling and waving at the photographer. She saw Narcissa proudly beside Lucius Malfoy, imposing and proud of his wife. She saw the three together, sitting on a luxurious sofa with an upright posture in a more formal photo: they looked like a happy family; in tortuous and distorted perspectives, but still happy.

Ginny was distracted, thinking of how many losses the two sides of the war had already suffered, how many lives had been destroyed, when she touched with her forefinger the face of the blond boy in the photo, who was smiling innocently.

" _Love_ is beautiful, isn't it?" A nonchalant voice said from the door, whose owner just entered the room. "You’re already sighing just seeing Draco's picture."

Startled, Ginny turned to the door. She could not believe her eyes! After so many years...

"Blaise!" She had to control herself not to go and embrace her friend, unsure of the reason for her joy to see him. Perhaps because Blaise had always meant stability and she translated stability as _safety_. "I thought I’d never see you again!"

"Did you miss me? I presume you _didn’t_ , since you're going to marry someone else." Blaise pretended to be hurt by her choice. 

Ginny realised, despite the Slytherin's always discreet manner, over the years he had become a little more outgoing. 

She smiled sincerely at him.

In fact, the years were kind to Blaise Zabini. And the twat was _really_ handsome. His almost black eyes captured all the movements around him and his perfect teeth gleamed whenever he outlined a smile that never fully formed.

Accenting all of it, his impeccable suit would look too much on anyone else, though on Blaise it looks amazing. He was easily the best dressed guy she has ever seen. In addition, his body and skin color made him very flashy. When Blaise entered somewhere, it was _impossible_ not to notice him.

Ginny could not help but comparing him with her 'fiancé', who was too pale, too reserved, too cold. She almost winced in frustration.

Blaise was charismatic while Draco was unsympathetic. Blaise was engaging while Draco was impassable. Both had an air of arrogance around them. Both had a degree of introspectiveness. But Blaise talked and manipulated, while Draco closed himself to the world and used his silence as a weapon.

However, she was not fooled by either: they were both potentially dangerous and it was best to keep her guard in their presence.

"It’d never work between us, Blaise.” Ginny smiled affectionately at him. “I’m not your type, remember?"

" I wouldn't dare forget it.” He came over and kissed her hand politely, indicating a comfortable chair for her to sit on. "So, I see you managed to get rid of the war, after all." He said while going to prepare a glass of firewhisky for himself, even though it was still morning.

Ginny immediately became tense; she did not want to talk about the war - about her family - and Blaise sniffed her fear in the air.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Redhead. That's my business: keeping secrets. I'm a _facilitator_ in the Wizarding World now. People come to me to solve their problems - legal or not. I use my connections and contacts to fix any situation, always with satisfactory results, I must add humbly."

He stopped to take a sip of his drink and Ginny recognised the gesture for what it was: a dramatic pause. Blaise had always been a drama queen through and through.

"As you can see, if knowledge is power, I’m someone very powerful in this new world." He smiled this time completely, looking like a predator. "Information and knowledge are two currencies that never go out of style."

“Thanks for the lesson on how to be a self-centered manipulator, Blaise." Ginny replied in a good mood, despite the whole situation.

"Nonsense!” Blaise made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if he were chasing away an inconvenient fly. "You don't need lessons to be self-centered and manipulative. Quite the opposite, by the way. After what Draco told me, you should drop this potion thing of yours and dedicate herself to teaching the noble art of being an arsehole.”

"Blaise Zabini!" Ginny blushed violently, speechless.

"We’re past the age of being embarrassed by mere words." Blaise said nonchalantly, resting his chin over a hand.

"What did Malfoy tell you?" Ginny tried to assess her situation.

"Just that you're blackmailing him into marrying you." Then Blaise leaned forward, curious. "But one part of the story is missing, precisely the one that most interests me. What in hell did you use to force him?”

His dark eyes shone with curiosity and his sentence did not hide his astonishment at that marriage. Ginny was slightly offended by his attitude.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, eh?” Ginny said and put on her most innocent smile. "If Malfoy didn't tell you, who am I to say anything? Maybe he just fell in love with me and there's no blackmail at all."

Blaise laughed at her blatant lie and she noticed he was much more smiling nowadays. "You surprised me. I’ve always thought you had some potential, but I had no idea how much Slytherin you could become." She did not even have time to take offense at the adjective because in the next instant, Zabini's face suddenly became more serious. "It seems you guys are serious about it.”

Ginny snorted. "Of course we’re serious! Or do you think I came here for tea and to remember old times with Malfoy?" After a moment of silence, where Blaise had become thoughtful, she added. "May we handle the details, then?"

“After having a word.” He suggested raising his index finger, introspective again.

"What do you want, Blaise?” Ginny said, folding her hands decidedly on her lap. “I’d rather resolve this as soon as possible." 

"What do I want...?" Zabini put his hand on his chin in thought. "I want you to give up on this idea. I want you to accept the generous proposal Draco made for you, take your son, leave England for good. I want you to go live your life, away of all of this."

“Why would I give up now, after all I've been through to get here?” Ginny looked at him astonished. “Your request is touching and I appreciate your concern for me and my son, but I won't give up. I can’t, Blaise."

Blaise sighed tiredly.

"Have I ever told you that my mother was married seven times?” He asked, his eyes fixed on her. The change of subject baffled her. "Seven times married, seven times a widow..."

"No…" Ginny said feeling inexplicably uneasy. 

Blaise had never told her anything about his mother, but Ginny - and everyone else at Hogwarts - had heard stories about Blaise Zabini's mother: beautiful and deadly. However, the last thing she wanted at that moment was to speak openly about the most sinister gossip about Ms. Zabini.

“I usually try to learn my lessons from the mistakes of others. Making mistakes on your own is too costly, as you already know. So, because of my mother, I think I’m entitled to consider myself well-versed when it comes to marriages that doesn’t end well.”

He left the words in the air for a moment, before resuming talking, looking at the ice that was left in his glass.

"Marriage, like everything else, is what you make of it. It depends on the expectations people have when they get married, on how they act and react while living together. But it mainly depends on the reasons why you get married." Blaise stopped, letting her take in the idea. "And now I ask, what are your reasons, Redhead?"

_Fear_ and _selfishness_ were the first words that crossed her mind, but Ginny took a different approach. "Blaise, you don't understand-"

"I really do." He interrupted her gently. "You, on the other hand, are the one who don't seem to understand that you are planting hatred between the two of you. And this barrier is as insurmountable as the ones that our friend Draco placed in himself, to isolate himself from everything. Honestly, I didn't expect this from a noble Gryffindor. "

"I have no choice!" Ginny said, finally exasperated. "I’ve learned the hard way that when we want to achieve a goal, we must be willing to sacrifice something... Now, I'm giving up on something that is very precious to me: my self-esteem and my principles. But I have no choice..." She repeated, this time without as much conviction in the voice as she would like.

"There’s _always_ a choice. And you’re making a crucial one right now. Still, do you want to continue with this?"

"I _must_ continue with this."

Blaise sighed again, looking resigned this time. Ginny was relieved: Blaise was still a good expert on human nuances; he would not press her any further than necessary to make his point clear.

"Very well. Then, let’s get down to business.” He resumed his entrepreneurial way, went over to a table and took a Quick-Quotes Quill, positioning it with a paper on the arm of the chair where he was sitting. “Although Draco made clear the situation seriousness, he imposed only three conditions, which you must accept in order to continue with this.”

“What does he want?" Ginny asked between curious and exasperated.

"First - and quite obvious - he wants the object of your blackmail; as soon as the wedding takes place, you must hand over everything you can use against him. And to ensure that it happens, he wants an Unbreakable Vow.”

When Blaise finished speaking, he searched her face for reactions. She was slightly annoyed by the fact she would have to make a promise involving her life, even though the risks were almost nil: she had never thought about not giving Harry's memories away. All in all, she found the Malfoy’s demand fair; she had done the same with him after all.

"I agree." Ginny nodded solemnly, indicating that Blaise should proceed.

"The second condition is that you two don't share the same house. Apparently, he doesn't want to see you at his family's Manor."

_Not living with Draco Malfoy? That part was easy_ , she thought a little more relieved.

"The pleasure will be all mine." Ginny said acidly. "And the last condition?"

"He demands you to honor the name you are going to carry. It basically means that you must cut off indirect relationships with people who could harm his family name." Blaise's look was so significant that there was no need to say anything else.

She would need to move away from the Resistance.

The Quick-Quotes Quill stopped writing just as Blaise stopped talking.

Ginny sighed. At an opportune moment, she would look for a way to deal with that demand more adequately, but for now, it would be best to be condescending. "I agree with those _exactly_ words."

Blaise looked at her suspiciously, but shrugged in sequence; he seemed to decide that, after all, it was not his problem. And Blaise Zabini was very good at not caring about problems that were not his.

"I suppose you want to establish your conditions as well. Soon Draco will be here to read the terms and we can finish this part.”

Ginny took a deep breath. "I want the wedding to be held as soon as possible and for me to be publicly recognised as his legitimate wife, able to receive all the protection that his name can provide. I also want him to protect my son from You-Know-Who." She paused thoughtfully, before completing. "And for that, I demand an Unbreakable Vow." 

The quill frantically wrote everything down and the silence was almost unbearable.

Blaise whistled softly. "Are you aware of the situation you're putting him in?"

She nodded, preventing her conscience from manifesting at all costs. After a few more seconds without either of them speaking, Blaise held the quill in his hand, immobilizing it before opening his mouth.

"May I suggest another condition?"

"On my behalf or his?" Ginny asked feeling suddenly tired.

"Yours."

"And why would you do that?” She said with a hint of sarcasm. "I thought you were here representing your dear friend."

“A good question indeed. I can only conclude I truly enjoy your presence." 

Both smiled at the same time, remembering that exact conversation from their past, one among so many others that the two of them had through the halls of Hogwarts.

"And what would that condition be?" Ginny asked, still smiling.

"I didn't expect to see you again in this life, but here you are, against all the Universe’s prognosis. And on top of that, forcing Draco to marry you… I don't agree with this idea, but now I think this situation must be minimally bearable for you two - although I doubt this possibility."

"Thanks for the optimism." Ginny glared at him.

Blaise resumed talking, as if Ginny had not said anything. "Therefore, I advise you...” He paused for dramatic effect and it almost made Ginny held her breath. "Demand the marriage consummation."

If Ginny had not been sitting, she would certainly have fallen back. Where was the good old idea of marriage on the basis of blackmail, without real commitment? She felt her face catch on fire while opened and closed her mouth three times before answering in a somewhat dumb way.

" _Consummation?_ "

"Please, don't give me that look of outraged maiden.” He made another dismissive gesture with his hand. "We both know that you’re not one. And also, you understand perfectly well what this demand means."

“Of course I do! I’m surprised, that’s all… I had no idea that marriages could be annulled if not consummated. It's so... Archaic."

"That is not the case. We’re not _Muggles_ to cancel a wedding because of something so... ordinary. Nor Draco has any intention of undoing anything, breaking your agreement." Blaise looked slightly out of patience. "But the point is that he’s entering in a forced marriage and all he feels for you is hate because of it."

"I don’t doubt it." Ginny murmured, trying to shrug nonchalantly. "But I don't care what he feels or doesn't feel, as long as he can't hurt me. All I want is the protection his name is going to bring me. If he despises me and doesn't want to live with me, so be it." She said lifting her chin and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do you want him to not hurt you? If so, you're making another mistake. Clearly, you don't know the man you're going to marry: Draco is spoiled, proud, resentful. Right now, your position is strong, because you have something forcing him to surrender to your wishes. But it won't be like this forever, will it?”

“I guess it won't.” Ginny conceded doubtfully.

“Once you give him the object he wants, you won't have anything to hold him back.” Blaise stopped for a moment to give her time to think about it. "It’s mandatory that you try to control Draco in some way. If you don’t, you’ll be condemning yourself to a very deplorable existence, which will end up exposing the two of you to You-Know-Who sooner or later."

"He won't be able to do anything to harm me." Ginny said through clenched teeth, as if she were ready to go to war. And in a way, she really was.

"Think it over, darling. After the wedding, you’ll have no power over him. And there’s no point in asking for his forgiveness for putting him in this situation: sentimental arguments are of no value to him. I think you can already conclude on your own that you’ll need to influence him in _another_ way. "

"He's not an animal, Blaise!" Ginny did not even know why she was taking offense on Draco's behalf, but there she was.

"He’s even worse: Draco is a _man_." Blaise interjected coldly. "They’re easily manipulated by the instincts."

Ginny looked at him skeptically. "And _you_ don't fall into that category as well?"

"I'm another kind of man," Blaise replied mysteriously. "A much better one, by the way. Also, I'm not the one you want to marry, am I?"

And Ginny did not want to think about how many times Blaise himself had taken advantage of that male weakness. And female weaknesses too, truth be told. Since the days of Hogwarts, Blaise was already famous for his _versatility_.

"It's a dangerous domain.” Even seeing some reason in Blaise's argument, Ginny was reticent. "And a fragile one."

"It's up to you to make it stronger. Otherwise, you're going to be in trouble-"

"I got your point, Zabini." Ginny cut off what he was saying and blushed, wanting to get over with this conversation. However, as was typical, she could not resist the curiosity that followed. "And who guarantees _I_ will want this? And who guarantees Malfoy will allow me to get close to him more than once?"

"I think you’re smart - and attractive - enough to play this game. Make sure you do it once and the opportunities will come, slowly and steadily. Make sure he is in your hands, at least in that sense." The dark eyes shone with malice. "That doesn't mean, of course, you're going to be successful right off the bat."

"What do you mean this time?" Ginny was starting to get impatient, not sure if it was due to her face burning with embarrassment or the delicate subject that Blaise insisted on bringing up.

"Draco doesn't care about women, in general." Blaise said casually and she could not avoid wide-eye him; it was enough for him to figure out what she was thinking. "Ah, you still understand everything _so_ literally! He certainly _fancies_ women – predictable twat he is-, but he doesn't particularly _care_ about them.”

"Who could imagine." Ginny grunted.

“Who indeed. My friend isn’t a heartbreaker and I would daresay he’s not well-versed in the art of love. Of course, there’s Astoria Greengrass, but she’s a subject for another day…" He stopped for her to keep up with the information. “The truth is, women are like everything else for him: if they don’t bring advantages, they are rejected. To put it more mildly, his fame isn’t of being an affectionate man. Or _hot to trot_ , for that matter. "

Ginny thought if she were more flushed, the red would never leave her face. "I don't care how Draco Malfoy behaves in _those_ moments, Blaise! All I want is-"

"-make my life miserable as hell.” Draco Malfoy's drawled voice came from the door, followed by its grudging owner. “And I must confess you’re being very successful at your intent."

“Good afternoon, Draco.” Blaise greeted his friend casually, smiling wicked at Ginny. “What a pleasant surprise you arriving at this very moment.”

Draco ignored his comment. "Have the details been discussed yet?"

"I think so. _Mrs. Woodcroft_ has accepted all your terms." It did not escape Ginny's ears how the pronunciation of her fake name had come out sarcastically from Zabini's mouth. "She’ll give you the objects you want as soon as you two are married and she promised to honor your name. Oh, and she’ll respect the clause of not residing with you."

This time it was Draco's time to snort loudly, blowing away some very blond hair from his face with the movement. “The least she could do.”

"Would you like to review her conditions?" Blaise asked in a professional tone. 

"I’m aware of her terms and already accepted them. We may move on to the next step and sign the contract." He said without even showing he knew Ginny was in the room.

“Actually, there’s one new condition, Draco." Blaise said, his mouth curving in a hint of a smile.

_Blaise was enjoying the situation!_ Ginny thought outraged. When that farce was over, she was sure she would slap him.

Malfoy, blessedly unaware of the shitstorm that would soon befall upon him, threw himself into the armchair next to which Blaise was sitting, almost facing Ginny and she cringed automatically in anticipation.

She had not agreed with that yet, but having seen a little truth in Blaise's words, she decided it was best to remain silent.

_For now._

"Say it." Draco grunted, not hiding his discontent. "Does she want me to babysit her brat on weekends?"

"It’s _way_ more pleasant, I suppose." Blaise showed his most wolfish smile and Ginny automatically flinched. "She wants the marriage to be consummated, to validate the entire contract."

Draco was automatically tense in the chair, rigid as if he were sitting on a bed of nails. His eyes widened and looked like ice, before taking on the dark, dangerous shade that Ginny had learned to know and fear. His cheeks had gotten slightly pink, but now he was pale again, livid with embarrassment.

"And how am I supposed to prove that I honored such preposterous clause?" He said pouring cold rage in every word, finally looking at her. "Pray tell, Ginevra, how many people should witness the whole scene?"

It was the first time he had said her name and it sent a wave of involuntary shivers down her spine. She did not even have time to work out an answer when Malfoy continued to speak.

"Without witnesses, it’ll be rather difficult to prove anything in this regard, considering I’m dealing with a woman who is already a mother and has been caught rubbing herself up on everyone, even on the employees of her shop."

Draco smiled cruelly, clearly referring to the day he had spotted her hugging Flynn.

_It was a hug of thanks!_ , Ginny thought outraged.

And _maybe_ he was also remembering the time she actually rubbed herself up on _him_ , but she also had good reasons for _that_. The secret of her potions was at stake!

"Oy, you arsehole!" Ginny stood up, ready to raise her wand and rip out that little smirk he showed in the most painful way possible. 

_How dare he?_ She had just reached that level of intimacy with Harry and-

Ginny stopped abruptly. She would be damned before explaining herself to Draco Malfoy. Then, she took a deep breath, composed herself bravely and sat haughtily, saying more calmly than she really felt.

“Oh, are you afraid of me, _Draco_? I know you don't have much of a way with women, but I promise I won't hex you when the time comes...” She smiled innocently so that her words would hurt him more. "You probably don't know what it's like to deal with a woman who has a will of her own, but it's not as scary as it looks"

Malfoy’s countenance became darker and he was ready for a replica that would definitely bring out the worst in Ginny's temper when Blaise interrupted them.

"Come on, children. We were doing great. We just need this _detail_ to finish our deal." Blaise was clearly controlling himself to not smile. And for Blaise Zabini to get into this state of lack of control, it just meant that he was having a great time. “I suppose both your word in the matter should suffice to prove your… _commitment_ to the cause.”

_Bastards!_ Ginny thought furiously. _Both of them!_

She was about to open her mouth to suggest that Zabini and Malfoy could consummate the marriage together if they wanted to because she would not be part of that stupid condition any longer, but Malfoy was faster than her.

"I accept it, Blaise." He drawled and a predatory smile spread over his pale lips. "Ginevra and I have a deal."

For Ginny, who theoretically proposed the new condition, all that remained was to accept her defeat silently and see the deal formally sealed. Stepping back now would be like stabbing her pride and giving Malfoy a private victory.

She would have to find a way to escape that later.

_Bloody Blaise Zabini!_

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Blaise had insisted on escorting her to the door after they signed the contract, while Draco remained impassive in his office chair, submerged in his precious silences.

They walked to the mansion's door without exchanging words until, arriving in the lobby, she could no longer contain her temper.

"What a hateful situation you put me in, you jerk!” She snapped, poking his chest with her index finger. "I should make you remove that absurd clause from the contract!"

"Now it's done, Redhead. Besides, when you take on a hateful demeanor from the beginning, the best you can do is establish your positions." Blaise answered coldly, gently pulling her hand away.

Her shoulders sagged visibly and She sighed tiredly. "If you like to know, Blaise, I’m suffering a chronic condition of guilty conscience." Ginny replied a little more calmly, feeling the sting of his sentence.

"Let’s hope it’s only your conscience that gets you into trouble. What you have chosen for yourself also doesn’t present a very good prospect."

"Oh, Blaise." She sighed, feeling defeated.

“Hey, listen to me.” Blaise snapped his fingers in front of her, getting her attention. “I’ll be here for you, don’t ever forget it."

“I won’t” She nodded gratefully, not knowing what other answer to give. Then Blaise bowed slightly and left her there, brooding over his words.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Ginny spent the rest of the afternoon at her shop, receiving customers, contacting suppliers, dealing with people from the Ministry. She was exhausted and, being very honest with herself, she would like to get even more tired. She needed to occupy her mind with something other than her impending marriage. Now that their contract had been signed, she would soon be arranging preparations, making invitations, announcements.

 _Merlin, how am I going to talk to my family about this?_ This was a point she had avoided thinking about. She looked out the window, trying to postpone her trip home a little longer. There was a hellish storm outside.

Knowing she should go home, Ginny gave Flynn the last instructions for the day, recommended procedures for closing the shop and apparated in front of her house. Despite trying to protect herself from the rain, she ended up getting wet from head to toe.

Ginny really wanted to see her son and rest, but she noticed a strange movement in her living room: as soon as she entered the hall, Della appeared in front of her with an apologetic look on her face.

"Della tried to say you weren't here, but they said they’d stay until you showed up."

"It's all right, Della.” Ginny said feeling numb from the day. “Just make sure James is in bed, please." 

Ginny was certain that 'they' would be more customers who avoided going to her shop, so as not to attract unwanted attention. She had been through cases like this several times. She would normally scold people for their intransigence to put themselves in her living room without being invited, but not today. She was too tired to fight.

The rain continued to fall incessantly outside and it suited her sour mood. The room was dark and Ginny did not hesitate to keep her wand ready in case of problems. 

In a typical horror movie scene she had watched while living in the muggle side of London, a particularly intense lightning streaked across the sky, turning the night into a day for a millisecond the moment Ginny entered the room.

There were four men inside, in different positions. One thoughtfully watched the rain, the other warmed himself in the fireplace whose fire was low. A third one, sitting on the sofa, was playing with a kind of lighter and the fourth one engaged himself in twisting his wand mockingly between his fingers.

Four big men.

Four men with unfriendly expressions.

Four red-haired men.

One year had 365 days. A reasonable number of days for things to go wrong. But it was on _that_ specific and terrible day that her brothers decided to visit her. And she was slightly suspicious of the reason, even though she could not grasp how they had found out.

It was rare to see them together.

It was rare to see them, anyway.

They avoided going out together and avoided seeing her, except for George.

Ginny understood the behavior because it was too dangerous for both sides. Even so, she could not help wanting to hug each one of them, run her hand over Percy's clean-shaven face, make Ron bend over to hug her, run her fingers through Bill's hair... But she was convinced it was not time for that.

There was something wrong...

It was not even safe for them to be together like that. With pain in her heart, Ginny knew that if one of her brothers was killed, the others would take revenge. However, if they were caught all at once, in her home nonetheless...

She shook her head to chase the thought away.

They were the leadership of the rebel insurgency.

Percy was the one responsible for organising and raising funds for the Resistance. The vaults of everyone involved in the Order were blocked by the Ministry and they survived on savings kept out of Gringotts and small donations made by supporters. Ginny, for example, was one of those who donated large sums.

Bill represented the movement's union, conducted political relations, recruited new people and was the one who had the most contact with the 'outside' world. Consequently, he was the one more exposed, mainly in visits to other countries, notably Romania, where Charlie and his contacts organised a force against Voldemort's advances in Eastern Europe.

Ron was the military soul of the Resistance: he trained and commanded alongside Hermione. Ginny never ceased to be surprised by the discipline and devotion that people dedicated to Ron; somehow, Harry's death had hardened something inside her brother, just as it had done to her. It made him the very foundation of the Resistance, the hope for a better world.

George, in turn, took care of every strategy, mapping all movements, surprising the enemies, always a step ahead of the Ministry. Ahead of anyone else, to be honest.

And it was him who was facing Ginny at that moment.

He stopped turning his wand between his fingers and with it, lit the candles in the room: with Ginny at home, movement in the room could be justified.

"Hello, Gingin." He said neutrally. The nickname was affectionate, but the voice had a 'whiff' of rebuke that did not suit George. "We came to deliver the newspaper to you."

He got up and handed over the evening edition of The Daily Prophet. Interestingly close to the obituary section of the newspaper, Draco Malfoy’s photo - who looked at the photographer with his arms crossed and an unfriendly countenance - was followed by the headline:

**IN SECRET, HOTSHOT OF MINISTRY OF MAGIC MARRIES POTIONS’ MAGNATA**

_Draco Malfoy, 24, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, released an official note in the early afternoon where he claimed to have married the Scottish pure-blood immigrant Ginevra of Woodcroft, belonging to a family branch o Hengist of Woodcroft and London's largest potions businesswoman, in an intimate and discreet ceremony._

_Sources close to the new couple affirm they began dating a few months ago, when Draco Malfoy started visiting the shop of now Mrs. Malfoy, and have always had very friendly relationship._

_This seems to be the beginning of a closer association between the Ministry and the potions industry, against the turbulences experienced at this time._

_But a single question remains in the air: with a wedding held so quickly and unexpectedly, is there a new Malfoy heir on the way?_

_When in doubt, it would be wise that the specialized stores start to prepare themselves to supply the most important baby layette in the Wizarding World._

"Son of a bitch!" It was all Ginny managed to say. How dare he throw the news as if she had no people around to inform first?

Obviously, she was not going to admit a hint - minimal - of disgust at not even having a reception for her employees at her shop, which would serve as a kind of compensation for her family's absence.

And the most relevant point: she needed everyone to know about their marriage. Certainly, putting a note on The Daily Prophet had some degree of exposure, for sure, but Malfoy could at least have given the news more prominence and not put it next to the obituary, as if he had been sentenced to death! She felt she was blushing by the second.

To make matters worse, her brothers interpreted her reaction incorrectly.

"I knew there must be some misunderstanding in this situation. I tried to convince the others not to come, but it didn't do much good." It was Percy who first opened his mouth, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses and turning his back on the fireplace he had been staring at in the last few minutes. “As you can imagine, this news caused quite a stir in our family."

"Wow, Ginny, you should’ve seen Mum's face when she read this." George was relaxed again, chatting normally now. "She didn't send a Howler to you only because Dad stopped her by saying the Ministry would easily find out where we are."

Ginny felt a sudden urge to explain herself better, but Ron's voice interrupted her.

"It's great to see that you still have a little bit of common sense, Ginny. Imagining you with Malfoy is like imagining a _veela_ flirting with Hagrid." He played with his lighter absently, a gift from Dumbledore.

"Do you have any idea of Malfoy's reasons for doing this, Ginny?" Bill asked, diverting his attention from the window for the first time and fixing his green eyes on her; his scars gave him a frightening appearance in the half light.

She swallowed hard. Bill was her most perceptive brother, the one who discovered the things she did not want to reveal.

Wanting to buy time, she passed by them and stoke up the fire in the fireplace with her wand, cast a quick spell to dry herself off and sat in an armchair, placing the wand protectively on her lap. Maybe she was really going to need that protection.

“I don’t know why he did it.” Ginny felt three of her brothers sighing in relief; Bill, however, waited patiently. She waited a few seconds before resuming talking. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all a lie. I’ve not married Draco Malfoy _yet._ ”

_“What!?”_

_“Beg you perdon?”_

_“Bloody hell!”_

George, Percy and Ron exclaimed at the same time and Ginny took a deep breath.

“I’m going to marry him soon enough.” She did not have the courage to look at any of them, staring at her lap instead.

The silence that followed her statement was deadly. She felt so strongly judged she thought she would succumb to the pressure that four pairs of light eyes put on her.

They were definitely astonished.

"From the moment you decided to leave, I thought you were taking the most selfish attitude of your life. But _that_ is already pushing the limits of common sense, even for you." Ron uttered without hiding his astonishment.

That was, by far, the worst day to endure Ron's attacks.

“And who do you think you are to judge me, Ronald? You certainly are an example of altruism!" Sarcasm dripped from her in order to hide the pain caused by her brother's words.

"Enough, you two!" Bill rarely used that tone and his two youngest siblings automatically shut up. "Ginny why would you do something like that? You're exposing your identity, the Resistance and, above all, you’re exposing _James_."

"Malfoy already knows who I am and about my contributions to the Resistance. And he also knows about James." Ginny declared, sadness permeating her voice. "He's not going to do anything to harm my son or me." 

_At least I hope he isn’t going to_ , she added mentally.

If possible, the four men were even more astonished. Percy could not close his mouth for a moment and Ron was so red he looked like he was going to explode. George reached unconsciously for his missing ear in a gesture he had become accustomed to making when he was confused.

"Are you saying that Malfoy is going to marry you and take care of James?" Ron asked, already oblivious to the previous argument with his sister. "Ginny, is he in love with you?"

"No!" Ginny blushed absurdly, shocked at the idea of marrying a Malfoy in love with her.

"So…?" Percy said, clearly hoping for a reason with minimal logic for that situation.

How to explain to her brothers what she had done, without feeling worse than she was?

"I have this… _thing_ , which is very important to Malfoy. So, we made a deal.” She said, stumbling over the words, "I give him this _thing_ and he marries me and protects James from You-Know-Who."

"What would this _thing_ be, Ginny?" Ron said, the tip of his ears turning even redder. The question, asked in a totally embarrassed tone, made Ginny understand the ideas that were going on in her brother's head.

"It's not like that, Ron! You git!" Ginny could not be more flushed without dying of hyperthermia. 

_Did he really think I would go so low?_

“Malfoy simply wants an object that I have and that could complicate his position at the Ministry."

The silence that followed was almost as unbearable as the weight of her brothers’ gazes, until George burst out laughing.

“Are you forcing Malfoy to marry you? Little sis, I _really_ don’t want to get on your wrong side!” He said between laughter. “Fred would be proud! Well, not exactly proud of you for marrying the stupid ferret, but you got the point.”

George's laughter was not enough to make the climate less tense and Ginny suspected that the mention of Fred's name had something to do with it.

"What makes you imagine that Malfoy is going to stick to your deal, whatever it is?" Percy asked calmly.

"He's going to make an Unbreakable Vow." It was her simple answer.

George, already recovered from his fit of laughter, whistled softly. "He really wants something from you, Gingin. And I'm not sure if this puts you at an advantage or not..."

"And what about the Resistance?" Percy asked another legitimate question. 

In Ginny’s mind, it was an accomplished fact that her loyalty towards her family would be (more) contested in the face of this marriage. And there was also the other side of the coin: could Draco Malfoy protect the Resistance too?

"Everything remains as it is in this regard; I’m going to continue to help you all," she answered dutifully, omitting the fact that Malfoy had intentions to make her cut off relations with her family. "Nothing was said _explicitly_ about the Resistance."

"I hope you understand all the implications of your action, Ginny." Bill murmured softly, unconsciously bringing his hands up to the scars on his face – scars indirectly caused by Malfoy. "And I also hope you won’t regret any of it."

Her head was going to explode.

More silence. Nerves on edge. 

"Bloody hell, Ginny! I can't believe you're doing this to us! Doing this to _him_!" 

Ginny did not need to ask who was the ' _him_ ' in Ron's sentence: it was quite clear that her brother felt her decision to marry Malfoy was another betrayal of Harry's memory. 

"Joining one of our main enemies, the guy who's chasing us like we're animals, the guy who did everything in his life to harm us! That's low blow!"

" _Harry is dead_!” Ginny replied in the same tone, tears already stinging her eyes as Ron cringed as if he had been punched. "How much longer will you take to realise this, Ron?!"

"Who's Harry, mum?" James was in his pajamas at the living room door, rubbing his sleeping eyes and dragging a dragon-shaped teddy bear on the floor.

"Did we wake you up, buddy?" Ginny ran to hug the boy, wiping her face with the back of her hand in the process. "It's nothing important now. Come on, I'm going to put you to bed and tell you a story. What do you think?" She asked quietly, not giving the boy time to ask about the four men in the room.

“That one about the Wizard and the Hopping Pot?" James asked hopefully and when Ginny agreed solemnly, the boy smiled. Then, still sleepy, he raised his head and said yawning. "Ah, hello Geoffrey! I missed you."

“I missed you too, big boy.” George waved at James smiling.

"You’re making a huge mistake, Ginny." Ron said, already looking calmer, the instant she left the room carrying James with her.

She ignored him.

After climbing the stairs and entering the boy’s room, Ginny carefully put James to bed, laying him on the surface decorated with the Chudley Cannons symbol. Ginny half-smiled when she remembered how stubborn James had been - just like Ron - in choosing his favorite Quidditch team, even under her protests.

She stretched her body beside his, running her fingers through the boy's reddish-brown hair.

"I need to tell you something, James." Ginny said, swallowing hard.

"Before my story?" The boy asked yawning, cradling his face in his mother's body.

"Hm, hm." Ginny made an affirmative sound. "I decided I'm going to get married. You're going to have a stepfather." She did not know whether to top it off with a ‘ _Isn’t it cool?_ ’.

James remained silent and motionless for a few moments. "He’s gonna be my dad?"

"No!" She replied immediately, a little more breathless than she would have wished. "But he’s going to protect you as if he were."

"I want a dad to fly with me, to play Quidditch, to show him to Erwin, not to _protect_ me!" He was throwing a little a tantrum now, as he always did when he thought of the neighbor's son who pestered him from time to time.

Ginny hardly refrained her laugh at the thought of Draco Malfoy solving domestic problems like that.

"When I’m gonna meet him?" James asked suddenly awake, as if he had realised out of the blue that there would be someone else between him and Ginny from now on.

"You already know him, at least by sight. It's Draco Malfoy." She searched her son's half-hidden face for reactions.

"He's weird. He looks kind of… sad. I don't think he’s gonna play Quidditch with me." He sighed resigned. "But if you like him, I promise I'll try to like him too." James tried to smile, being won in the battle against sleep, piece by piece.

"I don't know if I like him, sweetie." Ginny murmured in doubt.

She stood there, waiting for James to step into an advanced state of sleep, lost in her thoughts, between her guilty conscience, anguished heart and trying to be sure that she had done what she should have done.

"But at least I don't hate him." She completed for herself after a few minutes. James was already asleep.

When she returned to her living room, the only thing left by her brothers was the rain marks on her expensive carpet.

Not for the first time, she wondered if her new relationship would put a stone on what remained of her bond with her family.

Ginny threw herself into the chair, hugging her knees and resting her forehead on them. It was time to start paying for her actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to thank everyone who left a comment. It means the world to me! Please continue to express your feelings and share your ideas!  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH!


End file.
